


The Fickle Finger of Fate

by Knifepie



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha Wade Wilson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, BAMF Peter Parker, BAMF Wade Wilson, Biting, Breathplay, Daddy Kink, Homeless Peter Parker, How Do I Tag, Imprinting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Poor Peter Parker, Possessive Wade Wilson, Protective Wade Wilson, Scent Kink, Size Difference, Slow Burn, Sugar Daddy Wade Wilson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2020-05-07 12:17:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19209274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knifepie/pseuds/Knifepie
Summary: Peter's starting to think they should rename Murphy's Law after him. Besides getting bitten by a radio active spider and losing everyone he's ever cared for, Peter's just lost his lab tech job and is currently squatting in a condemned building.And he might be delivering human organs for an organized crime ring.Also, he's starting to think he might have accidentally joined a sex cult.Oh, and did he mention he imprinted on a merciless killer in red and black pajamas?Honestly, the list goes on.A/B/O AU set five years after Thanos snapped.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Amateur trash hour  
> My first fanfic  
> Unbeta'd.  
> I tried.
> 
> I take from the video games, comics, and movies. This will just be a big mush universe of it all.

The last thing Peter Parker expected from his night was to run into Deadpool with his dick out. 

Make that scratchy record noise and freeze the frame. 

_"Bet you're all wondering how I got here.."_

If Morgan Freeman survived The Snap and was still alive, could he possibly narrate Peter's joke of a life? 

It all started when he got bitten by a radio active spider...

Okay, too far back. 

This whole scenario wouldn't have happened if Peter wasn't a little greedy for a little extra cash or really anything that took up a second of his free time. Running pies was an easy hire that fit well in between working at Dr. Octavius' lab and being Spider-Man.

He started his first shift at Pizza Amigo's the same day he was interviewed. 

Peter was good at his job. He delivered twice as fast as the other drivers, never a topping or slice out of place. He even made his own invention of a gyro-ing, ball bearing swingajig that held the pizzas at a perfectly flat angle no matter which way or how fast he web slinged through the city.

(He had learned the hard way after his first delivery when the entire layer of cheese and sauce stuck to the top of the pizza box and the whole bottom crust scrunched like an accordion.)

His quick delivery was especially appreciated by one of Pizza Amigo's regular customers who went by the unforgettable name of Weasel. (But who was Peter to judge with a hero name like Spider-Man) After meeting the guy for the first time, Peter knew instantly that he really was the human embodiment of an actual ground dwelling rodent. 

Every other Thursday night Weasel would call in and order two large pizzas. Extra cheese, extra pepperoni, greasey as possible, because he's sick and tired of this desolate world and wants die via stuffed crust and mozzarella clogged arteries. And why don't you add two orders of garlic sticks. Extra ranch dip, please.

After the first month of Peter working at Pizza Amigo's, Weasel was asking for his personal delivery services whenever possible. Peter didn't mind because the guy was generous in doling out fat tips. Always reaching into a stained sweatshirt pocket and pulling out a wad of bills rolled up in an elastic hair tie. Whatever the guy did, it paid well. Peter vaguely wondered if he worked at or owned the questionable bar below his apartment. 

Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Children always gave Peter the bad vibes. He'd never been inside but he had a sneaking suspicion that the bar was more than what it seemed. Maybe a money laundering front or an Alpha fight club. Certainly stank like the later one. Peter never choose to look into it as he didn't actually have any real evidence that it wasn't just what it was. 

One night after the usual passing of money for pizza, Weasel didn't turn away to go back inside. He just sort of stopped and stared at Peter with pizza in hand, mouth hanging open and eyes hooded and blood shot like he was cross faded and totally toasted. It made Peter shift awkwardly under the zombie gaze. Borderline uncomfortable and social anxieties rising. 

Did he miss a que? Peter knew his social skills kind of lacked, especially in recent years when he had spent so much time alone. He kind of just forgot how to interact properly with people half the time outside of his costume.

However, he always tried his best to polite like Aunt May had taught him.

"Uh, hey, wait a minute." Weasel finally broke the silence just as Peter gave up and started to turn away with a, "have a good night" on his tongue.

"I wanna ask you something." 

"Huh?" Peter blinked back at him.

"I need something delivered. To a friend. And you're the fastest delivery boy in the West. I'll even pay you a pretty penny for the favor."

"Um, I don't know. I'm kind of on the clock right now..."

"A whole hundo."

Peters jaw dropped and he broke out into an instant sweat.

"S-sorry?"

"I'll give you a hundred bucks. Worth your while? It would really help me out, kid. "

Peter took the job just like that. It wasn't a regular occurrence that Weasel had something for him to take but it did happen sometimes. He tried not to question it. He didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth because the money was too good and he had a hard time justifing how any harm could come from delivering an innocent looking white envelopes with an address' scribbled on them. 

But back to Deadpool with his dick out.

Peter was sliding around the corner at an all out run, into some side ally between a two story pawn and business shop with bars on the windows and a community of low income apartments. He just needed a moment of space and the right opportunity to slip of sight from the raging dick nose, knot head that was chasing him. Then he could just web sling his way to the roof, no conflict necessary.

All Peter was trying to do was one of the little side hussle after his regular pizza delivery route and this greedy cocknose, bug-eyed guy (who by the way, reeked like a hot french dip sandwich with extra onions) thought he could not only take the delivery Weasel had given Peter but also Peter's pocket money, cellphone and in dicknose's words Peter's, "pretty pink pussy."

Peter tried to let the guy down easy. He definitely made it clear he wasn't interested and ignored the fact he really wanted to punch this guy's lights out through the back of his head and into the next block when he didn't take no for answer. When the Alpha reached out with a thick grubby hand to grab Peter, Peter turned and ran. He already completed his job and didn't see the need to deal with this guy. Pretty stupid because an Alpha's basic instinct is to give chance. 

But Hell! This guy didn't give up! He already chased him four blocks and didn't show any signs of letting off. Peter kept thinking, _"c'mon dude, tire out...ugh, just one more block and then I'll thwip out."_

And then there in front of him, in the current situating alley way he had just turned into, barley even a meter in, Deadpool. 

The practically immortal, Merc with a Mouth. Prime grade Alpha decked out in black and red leather/kevlar combo. Strapped with katanas, guns and dick out for a piss.

One time Peter pulled out his ancient cellphone and Googled the Merc's name while standing in line at a Starbucks (cause even after half the world's population turns to dust, coffee is still a necessity) after over hearing a couple standing behind him in line discussing who of the heroes were left. They were debating if Deadpool was an actually hero or not. But what really got him was when one of them whispered, _"I heard he even came back from getting Snapped."_

The very first link after the fan made Wiki page, which he browsed over quickly and found almost nothing besides the man was a well known mercenary for hire, was a site with a URL from one of those free build your own web pages. The thing looked like it was made by a ten year old in 2005.

Little rainbow hearts and sparkles floated up form the bottom of his screen when it loaded and the only thing on the page was a crude MS Paint drawing of a little Deadpool stabbing a bloody guy with X's for eyes and then a freaking @yahoo email. Clearly a joke, right? Who even uses Yahoo? 

Peter sent a prayer out that he'd never run into the guy who flipping regenerated from being turnt to dust. An absolutely terrifying thought.

But thank his Parker Luck that there he was! As plain as day, regular ol' puny Parker. Distance encroaching rapidly on the Merc and couldn't even slow himself down enough to stop himself from slamming into the guy's rock hard front, just as he was casually tucking himself back into his pants and zipping up with a cheery whistle. Barely just turning his attention to Peter's presence before they collided.

Everything happened so fast that Peter saw it all in horrified slow motion. 

He had stuck his hands up out of self preservation to brace himself for impact but with all the momentum he had going, only crashed into the larger man. Trapping his hands between the unsuspecting mercenary and his own body. Fingers sprayed out across each wide pec and face smashed into the middle of them in comical motorboat fashion. Stinging reflex tears welled in his eyes from his nose taking most of the blunt force.

The feeling was extremely similar to hitting the side of brick building.

Peter would know because he's got a lot a experience in hitting brick buildings.

The Alpha body, built like a stacked house didn't even sway. Instead, a pair of arms flexing with muscles wrapped themselves around him. Catching him securely with nothing but a slightly surprised grunt. 

Peter blinked up at the unyeilding man through his wet lashes, his mouth hanging, breathe lost from running and surprise, ready to stuttered out his apologizes, and a _'oh jeeze! Please don't kill me._

The animated white eyes of Deadpool's mask stared widening back down at him. Peter couldn't help but partly wonder about the Merc's costume specs cause he would love to have a conversation about how they do that and if it's anything like his own Spidey mask.

"...Oh, Merry fucking Christmas!" 

Thoughts paused, Peter squinted at the Alpha.

Christmas wasn't even for another three months! But somewhere in his Omega brain, Peter is reminded between one breathe and the next that it's been a very long time since he's been hugged this tightly. He really doesn't want too admit it because he should be super uncomfortable but it's making him all warm and fuzzy. Like maybe it really is Christmas and he's a present being all wrapped up under the tree.

"I-I'm really, really sorry but could you, could you let go of me-?" He all but squeaked and stuttered, wanting to wince at how meek and squeeky his voice had come out.

Deadpool's hold on him only tightened briefly as Peter spoke. His stomach flopped when his spider sense went off for the first time. It definitely was not Christmas and this Alpha was dangerous and he's got him in a hold while he's armed like a one man army.

However, the thing about Peter's spider sense is that it's not totally accurate all time. Sometimes, it's like being at the end of a game of telephone. Just a whisper of something obscure leaving his enhanced instincts to fill in the space of the most likely outcome. 

When he hears heavy falling foot steps stopping at the mouth of the alley behind his back with a shout and the click of a gun cocking, he becomes very aware it isn't Deadpool he should be worried about.

Before Peter can react and without his permission, his own feet were suddenly lifted off the ground. The toes of his almost worn through Nikes scrapped against the concrete as Deadpool spun them around in a half circle, leaving Peter's back to the inside of the alley and his body pressed firmly into the larger male holding him.

Deadpool fluidly shifted his grip on him with one arm coming to hold him around his waist and the other craddling the back of his head gently, pressing Peter's face back into his chest to sheild him protectively.

At this point, even despite the endangering circumstances in mind, Peter, with his sore nose buried into leather covered muscles, couldn't help but focus on the way Deadpool smelled. The ripe sourness of over piled trash and hot piss odors of the alley dissipated as the Alpha's scent filled his lungs.

The world faded out for a few seconds and Peter swallowed a rising lump in his throat as his chest grew tight and a pool of heat grew in his belly. Peter's Omega went into over drive and immediately took over without asking. 

Peter's last distracted thought was Deadpool was touching him with pee-pee hands.

The Merc scented first and for most like hot, sweated leather and maybe something like left over Mexican food. And then under that, the unique signature musk that belonged to all Alpha's. Deadpool smelled heady and commanding. Deeply promising, a rich spicy heat of a musk. Thrilling like a wild fire sweeping through a forest of deadwoods, burning hot and suffocating.

He couldn't stop himself from taking another deep shaky inhale of a breathe through his nose. His lips slightly parting as he uncontrollably nuzzled his whole face and each cheek into the leather that stretched across the mercenary's chest. 

Lost in his haze Peter didn't take notice of the way Deadpool stiffened against him or the extraness of his expanding chest under his cheek and a nose burried in his hair. He probably would have kept cuddling up against the Alpha completely ignoring the danger if it wasnt for his spider sense kicking his ass and reminding him, _'hey numb nuts! get your shit together! Here comes a bullet!'_

Peter's mind was too thick and fuzzy to react quick enough though. The smells and the warmth and the pair of arms holding him felt way too awesome for him to care.

It was the echoing bang of a bullet leaving a barrel that jump started his soupy brain back to reality.

Almost in the same moment Deadpool grunted and jerked forward, his massive body curling over Peter's and the Omega's feet fell back flat on the ground again. 

Deadpool, with an incredible single motion and zero hesitation, unholstered the gun strapped to his thigh in a whip and without even looking shot backwards over his shoulder. The resounding bang of the bullet made Peter whine, embarrassingly, and duck his head further into the body holding him. 

It couldn't get more ridiculous how protected and safe he felt when the arm around his middle gave him a tighter, reassuring squeeze at his pathetic whimper.

"Boom, head shot!"

The recognizable sound of a body hitting the pavement brought Peter completely back to his fully functioning sane-self. Deadpool's scent lingered in him like a haunting but the smell of blood made him realize what had just happened.

This Alpha protected him. Took a bullet for him. Completely unnecessary because Peter dodged bullets for breakfast. Deadpool didn't need to get shot. Why did he just do that? Why did Peter let that happen, he should have moved faster, he shouldn't have been distracted like that. He's capable. Nobody needed to get shot, nobody needed to get hurt, nobody needed to die. Enough people were already gone from this world.

Peter felt himself flush all over in frustration. 

What the heck was that?! Why did he react like that? That's never happened before!

"Why?!" Peter quickly jerked himself up right, glaring, not entirely sure what he was more mad about as he easily shoved out the Merc's grasp. The Alpha actually stumbled back half a step, obviously caught off gaurd by the strength Peter had put into the push.

The larger man looked down upon him, regarding Peter for an nerve racking silent second. Tilting his head like curious dog who just heard a something new.

"Why what?"

"You! you... -got shot!" He sputtered. 

The whites of Deadpool's mask actually blinked. Lazily and without a care.

"No BD," the Mercenary answered, overly cool and smug like, giving a mild shrug and a roll of his shoulders. The slug's shell hit the ground behind them with the motion, having been pushed out his encouraging flex of muscles and the Merc's insane healing factor. Peter, already stunned and a still little dazed watched it roll away towards the motionless Alpha laying at the alley's mouth.

"He's... he's dead."

The Merc titled his head the other way and scratched at his temple with the barrel of his still smoking gun. The white eyes of his mask scrunched quizzically.

"Yeah? Greedo shot first." 

"You didn't have to kill him!"

"He shot first!" Deadpool bellowed back louder, matching Peter's tone and repeating himself like it would help the Omega understand any better.

"Whaddya want me to do? He was chasing you, right? What do you think was gonna happen when a Scumtits McGee Alpha catches a pretty Omega boy like you?! Huh?"

"I was handling it." Peter shot back, cutting in almost before Deadpool could finish his words. 

He set his spine straight and squared his shoulders like how he does when he's Spider-Man and stared back into Deadpools mask with resolution.

"You shouldn't have killed him."

"Sorry, but surveys suggest dead offereds aren't reoffenders." The Alpha was fippant. 

A mixture of contradicting feelings bit at Peter's nerves, leaving him confused and frustrated about the whole situation. He couldn't figure out if wanted to run away from the Alpha or fight him. And then there was that gnawing part that told him to return back into that wide chest with the good smells and the warm feelings that made his hole hot and his dick twitch with interest.

Peter definitely ignored that last bit.

Suddenly, Deadpool whipped his right arm out and with intense precision, double tapped two more bullets into the dead body behind him. Peter jumped back in a jerk of a motion with his defensives raised, questioning where the hell his spider sense was on that one?

He scowled deeply at the Alpha and winced at the ringing in his ears. He forced himself not to cover them or hold a hand over his heart as it beat wildly in his chest. Peter wondered if he could get tinnitus from all this.

He really hated guns. They're obnoxiously loud.

"Haha oopsies! Silly me," Deadpool was way too cheerful for just shooting a dead guy.

"I was just thinking about what he would'a done to you if you didn't catch me with my pants around my ankles." 

Peter put even more distance between himself and the Merc. When Deadpool stepped forward, Peter stepped back again nervously.

The Alpha paused and tensed and then did something weird and scolded himself by turning his head into his shoulder and using a harsh whispered tone said, "Bad Deadpool, you're scaring him!" 

Peter didnt give himself time to think about it. He let his insticts take over when he saw an opening as Deadpool turned his gaze away. He launched himself to the nearby fire escape and hauled himself up swiftly.

It was probably over a six foot jump to grasp the railing, an amazing feat for anyone normal and of Peter's size and build. 

Undoubtedly it would cause questions with the Merc but Peter needed to get away and he wasn't about to out himself as Spider-Man by using his web shooters in front of him.

He had never scaled anything faster his life. Hand over hand, heart thumping in his chest. He doesn't look back even when he's a safe two stories out of distance.

He hears Deadpool let out a breathey awe'd sounding, "Parkour!" 

"Heyyy, I'm sorry," The Alpha added, calling after him.

"I shouldnt have done it like that! I didn't really mean to, it was just a gut reaction!" Some how that's even worse.

Peter stood stalled on the roof, completely undecided. There's a certain feeling of reluctantcy pulling against every common sense he has like a game of tug-o-war.

He couldn't figure out why he reacted like that, rubbing himself all over the Alpha like he was going into heat. Down right embarrassing. Yet, goosebump still rose across his arms and sides just thinking about. Is he that touched starved that a gripping embrace from killer feels that good? 

"You know if it wasn't you, it'd just be someone else! He only shot at me because he wanted to get to you, baby boy!" Deadpool's voice carried from the alley way below. Peter licked his lips and brought the collar of his hoodie to his nose. They were so close together the Merc's scent transfered just enough to the outside of his hoodie he could smell it.

A barely there smell but there none the less. Almost unthinkingly Peter rubbed the soft cotton against his nose and just breathed through it deeply. Just for a minute, almost zoning out again as he concentrated on it. 

He's not sure why but making a decision, Peter turned on his heel and walked back over to the edge of the building, dopping the fabric from his nose and peering cautiously over the edge. 

Deadpool stared up at him, in the same exact spot but with his gun holstered and his hands up in a peaceful surrender. Somehow, Peter could tell a grin spread across his face under the mask when he saw Peter poke his head out. And looking directly behind him, Scumtits McGee splayed out on the ground, laying in a halo of his own blood.

"Come back down here!"

"No thanks!" Peter called back without missing a beat, proud that he actually sounded pretty cheeky.

"C'mooon!" Deadpool whined like a two year old and not a full grown Alpha. "Let's be friends! Pretty fucking cool how you climbed up there so fast, like whoa! Freakin' spider monkey skills! What's your name monkey boy?!"

"What's your name?" Peter countered without thinking because he is also a two year old and not a full grown man of twenty-one years. And really? Monkey boy? The Alpha got it half right but picked the wrong end of it.

"Wade Wilson! Call me Wade, okay?" The Alpha replied straightforwardly, no joking, no hesitation and not a single care for his identify under the mask. First and Last, like he should already know, a silent 'duh' almost hagging on to the end of it. 

"Well, Wade." Peter calls down to him.

"I'd say its nice to meet you but I'm gonna call the cops now seeing as there's a dead guy behind you and it's really up to you if you wanna hang out and have a chat with them."

"WHAT?! I thought we had something special here! Is that how you thank you're new bestie and savior?!"

Peter looked at him pointedly as he pulled his cell out of his back pocket of his pants, slowly, making it obvious what he was doing. He's not 100% sure why he's letting Deadpool off with a light warning, knowing who he is and what he does. Sometimes, Peter can't even justicify this own decisions to himself. But he knows for sure that Deadpool is in his city and if he stays, they'll meet again without a doubt.

"What about that name though?"

"Nope."

"You're number??"

Peter pretends to start dialing.

"Alright, alright!! I'm going." Deadpool throws his hands up and turns on his heel. "Too good to be true, anyways huh?" Peter's ears barely pick up him muttering to himself.

There's a strange empty ache in his chest as Peter watches him leave and only winced a little with a shake of his head when Deadpool made it a point to dig the heel of his boot into the dead Alpha's crotch as he steps over him instead of just going around. 

He thought he could hear Deadpool starting to sing badly and off key, REO Speed Wagons, _"Can't Fight This Feeling_ " as he disappeared around the corner.

Peter sighed in relief but the tension and wanting ache didn't leave him. He waited before dialing the police and gave them an anonymous tip about a body. He didn't wait around himself to see if they actually show up, knowing how short handed the force has been since the Snap happened. 

Peter went straight home afterwards. It wasn't that late but he'd had enough fun for the night and maybe he was a little worried he would run into Deadpool again too quickly if he went out patrolling. Worried about how he would react again.

But if anything he really just wanted to curl up and sleep a solid eight hours for once. Annoyingly, " _Cant Fight This Feeling_ " was stuck in his head all the way home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #unbeta'd  
> #babysfirstfic  
> #fuckmeupfam
> 
> Let me tell you something kind of but not really important about this universe.
> 
> When I originally started thinking up this verse a couple months ago I was calling it, "Everything That Can, Will" in honor of Murphy's Law. Like what would happen if the bad things happened in the MCU
> 
> So in this universe, Tony doesn't make it through the portal after the battle of New York and never meets Peter. Natasha went to jail, Furry died at the hand of Winter Soldier. Steve went AWOL after stopping Project Insight and taking down hydra-sheild, probably out there making babies with Bucky cause dammit Bucky deserves everything! Banner is in hiding, being a good doctor and etc etc with the others.

After five years, it seemed like the world was finally starting to pull itself back together. People where starting to move on, reluctantly accepting that this wasn't going to change. The damage and destruction was still there, people were still gone and they weren't ever coming back. Peter's still alive. And alone, but that's okay. He's use to it now. Really. 

It was actually, incredibly... easy. 

He really hated to admit just how easy it had been. So easy it made his gut twist with over whelming and agonizing guilt.

In the beginning it was all so confusing. Catastrophically heart breaking. It didn't even feel like it was real, like it was all just a really bad dream that the whole world was going to wake up from and everybody would just be put back where they belonged magically.

Peter had been there, in the chaos. When a spaceship came through the atmosphere. When an army marched through the streets. The whole thing was televised, live streamed, and transmitted on every radio station. He said he was bringing balance, but all he brought was upheaval and disorder.

Looking back on it, Peter was a little miffed that there was an actual time wizard living in New York without him knowing. Mostly because it would have been really bad ass to be friends with a time wizard. 

But even a time wizard couldn't stop Thanos and his army. What could Peter do? He wasn't even there for Aunt May. He felt he should have been there for her when she went. or Ned, his best friend, who was probably scared and worried about him. It was so easy to imagine the bus ride back from their field trip, the one Peter slipped away from to help in heart palpitating rush of panic. He didn't like to think about it though. Tried not to.

He use to have stress dreams about his Aunt and friends being harmed or kidnapped because someone found out who he was.

Now he just has nightmares of them, crumbling between his fingers like sand and blowing away in the wind. Or walking along besides them, talking normally, he'd look away for a second and then when he'd look back they'd be gone. Their voices calling out to him, asking him _why_ and begging him help them. 

How could Peter have done anything when he was so helpless himself.

It happened just like that, with a single Snap of fingers, Peter lost everybody, even lost himself in a sense. He didn't know what to do, he didn't even know who to reach out to. There wasn't _anybody_. He was scared, he didn't want to be alone. 

For the longest time all he did was lay in Aunt May's bed, wrapped up in her blankets, inhaling her warm and familiar scent and just sobbing until there was nothing left in him. 

Until his eyes were too puffy and his lips chapped up and his nose was chaffed and stuffed and his head ached and pounded. Until he couldn't do anything but just simply lie there until it all built up again and he sobbed some more. He couldnt do anything. He was useless.

During that time, he drifted off the deep end. Wallowed in mourning. How was he suppose to live now? No family, no friends, he was only sixteen. Who was going to take of him? He didn't want this. 

Was it just his luck? That he lost everyone close to him in the Snap? No Aunt May, no Ned, no Mj, Just him, Peter, all by himself. Just Him. Giving up ate at the back of his mind. He wished he could have gone with them.

And then he quickly took it back.

Because Peter still had a responsibility to keep, one that he'd be skirting.

It was the sound of wailing sirens that brought him back to it.

Being Spider-Man was _everything_

After the Snap, mass hysteria hit, all hell broke lose for weeks. Riots started, massive looting, street crimes increased by 30% and considering half the population was missing, that stat was devistatingy alarming. It was disgusting. How could people take advantage during a time like this, when no one was left uneffected.

There wasn't enough law enforcement to deal with it. Nobody was prepared, there was no plan for this kind of thing, nothing was organized, it was complete choas. Everybody was sad, and scared and angry.

Spider-man did his best to help. Anywhere he could.

That's where the guilt came in. Without having any one to worry about, Peter was...free. 

Free to be Spider-Man without any worry or fear that someone was going to find out who he really was. He didn't have to worry about his friends and Aunt May getting hurt. In the terriblist of ways, it was like a weight lifted off his shoulders that he had never hoped for.

Peter became reckless too. He didn't care what happened to him because there wasn't anybody else to care what happened to him. There was days when he got in over his head, got sloppy, got hurt, times where he almost died. Sometimes, he didn't even fully suit up before he was swinging into danger with only his mask and webshooters.

He was pretty sure someone out there had a picture of him in just is Spidey mask, sweats pants and all of his three chest hairs out.

Before the Snap he had always felt like he couldn't catch a break. He was never good at balancing the obligation he felt being Spider-Man and his normal mundane Peter Parker life. He was always letting people down. Never could explain himself properly, couldn't even explain it to himself, why he would drop the closet people to him just to go off and help a stranger in need. No matter what he did, it would eat at them from both ends.

Being Spider-Man was Peter's only anchor when he felt like he was left out to sea, drifting like bouey in the Bay. Swinging through the city cleared the foggy loss that clouded his mind and helping people filled the holes in his heart. 

Nearly three months later, Peter quietly returned to school when it reopened and numbly finished out his years. He didn't make anyone more friends. He remained friendly but closed off the other kids. He graduated with top marks, the teachers praised him for it but to him it was just something to do. A distraction. 

Maybe if he ever saved up enough money too, he could at least go apply to a Empire State University with highschool diploma in hand. But any pervious plans he had once for those biotechnological dreams seemed like a distant memory. His future seemed vasty challenged. 

That didn't stop his love for science though, often he spent full afternoons just sitting in the public library, reading up every book he could get his hands.

In the wake of many people losing their jobs and homes from the complications of The Snap, both Stark Industries and Oscorp generously donated to the city to open. F.E.A.S.T. Centers. 

Food, Emergency, Aid, Shelter and Training facilities quickly opened all over the city. They had beds and showers, lockers, a place to do laundry, they ran food drives and offered hot meals three times a day and had 24/7 counceling. They held job fairs and served the best wheat cakes in then city.

Peter had stayed a F.E.A.S.T. Center through most of highschool. Being a minor he wasn't allowed to stay by himself. He couldn't pay the bank back Aunt May's mortgage. If Peter wasn't out swinging or sitting in the library, he was volunteering there, helping out in the kitchen, taking donations, or even just cleaning duty. Regularly, he felt too guilty taking up room there, he'd rather give up his bed to someone who he felt needed it more. 

On those extra full nights, Peter wasn't a stranger to catching an after midnight nap on a roof top after patrol.

Then one day there was a help wanted sign was tacked to the bulletin board at the Center. Peter met Dr. Otto Octavius the year after he graduated. Though he lack experience, Dr. Octavius' was impressed by Peter's knowledge, despite his little schooling he insisted they clicked in like mindedness, he was hired right away.

Settling into playing lab tech during the day and Spider-Man during the night, Peter found some steadiness to his life. He continued to keep to himself over the next couple of years, focusing on his jobs. He figured less people for him to let down that way, less people to be put in danger and he definitely never ever dated.

Lonliness often ate at his bones but Peter questioned if he even deserved that. Could he even commit to something like that, pull someone into his mess of a life and leave them hanging cluessless or in dangers sight?

But he wanted it none the less. He just knew he couldn't have it. He's a 21 year old Omegan virgin. He's practically a unicorn! Or the surprise curly fry you find mixed in with the regular french cut ones.

There's a theory floating around out there, in a plot to further lower the population, a majority of Omega's and Beta's had disappeared in The Snap. Making the second gender dominantly Alpha and substantially lowering the yearly birth rate by a margin. It was questionable if there was enough mates to go around. To say the least, Omega's like him had become a bizarre sensation.

-

In a steep dreamy haze, Peter stands at the edge of a rooftop. Towering above the city, the lights from below flare dramatically in his vision. A giant still standing space ship hangs in sky like the eye of a hurricane. It blocks out the horizon in malstorm of swirling dark clouds.

A gaping portal spilling with a million stars looms above it. Peter strangely feels too calm by the sight before him but at odds his heart is pounding in his ears and he's all too aware of the beads of sweat rolling down his back. Tonight felt... Different, like everything was tilted off balance, just barely hanging on the verge of tipping.

Peter forgets what he's doing here.

The buildings start to shift and sway as he steps up to the edge, with all intending purposes of swinging off but there's suddenly no buildings to web to. The landscape escapes from him and he's standing alone on an island rooftop in the middle of smokey darkness. Only a single flood light by the roof's exit illuminates the range. 

When Peter looks down, over the edge, there is nothing but a void of pitch black. Only the sound of wailing sirens cuts through the darkness below. 

He should probably help with that, somehow. Sirens means he needs to help. Someone needs help. Someone needs him. 

Suddenly, everything twists, onset vertigo makes his head spin and he stumbles back unsteadily. His mask starts constricting around his face, all too tight and suffocating. He can't get enough air into his lungs, and he gasps as he suddenly forgets how breathing works. 

He rips the mask off with haste and with no second thoughts about revealing himself in the open. He's too desperate to care, he only needs to feel the cool night air on his tongue but when he sucks in a heavy breath only taste warm and muggy weather.

Everything starts to feel uncomfortable. His suit is clinging to him unbearabley with sweat, gross and clamy. Hot, sticky slick drips down behind his balls and inner thighs.

Everything feels too hot. Like he's in the throws of peak heat. Peter sways like he's about to collaspes with dizzying fever.

But out of no where there are large and comforting, red leathered gloved hands catching him. Their touch is cooling like a balm on a burn and Peter sighs. Happily accepting the relief, he lets them slip under his arms and pull him completely away from the edge. He falls back willingly, colliding solidly with a familiar muscled front.

Peter breathes deeply once, finally remembering how too as he bonelessly leans his weight back into the towering frame behind him. Hard muscles press into every inch of his flank. Roaming hands start ghosting over his sides.

They're so large, much bigger than Peter's own. They glide over his ribs, slide over his belly in an almost elusive touch. They follow the dips and rise of his muscles. They sweep over then curve his hip bone, just barely grazing where Peter wants to be touched the most and than sweeping away just when he thought he was going to get it.

He's so starved for this. His body readily accepting and awaking quickly with the simplest of suggestions and barest brush of finger tips. Just feather light touches that make his thighs tighten with anticipation. His cock has never gotten harder and faster than it just has and it's not evening being touched.

It feels like there more than one pair of hands, maybe even two or three. Touching everywhere. A pair of them fan over his chest, palms groping and fingers teasing over his sensitive nipples.

They toy at them through the fabric of his suit, rolling him between fingers until they turn into little pebbles and make Peter's toes curl. Heat pools in his belly, his own hands fly out to the side to clamp around the thick thighs that are supporting him. Thick enough Peter's hands can't even fit half way around them. 

His Alpha is so big, so strong, he keens in approval, digging his fingers into the meat of them. 

Finger tips trace along his collar bone, back and forth and back and forth while another slips lower, lower, almost and then trailing away again. Again! Teasing. 

Peter huffs in frustration and uses his tip toes to push himself impossibly closer. Rucks the cleft of his needy ass up in an urgent rhythm against the hard Alpha cock. Due to the height difference it's just pushing in between the tops of his cheeks and sliding up against his tail bone. He grinds against it, trying to stand taller still on his toes, looking for that perfect angle. 

A heated deep chuckle rattles through him from behind. 

A nose pushes into his hair, huffing in and scenting him, nuzzling behind his ear. A hot, velvet tongue licks the shell of it and nips. Goosebumps erupt across Peter's skin and he begs silently, clutching at those thighs, trying to pull his Alpha closer and begging for more. He needs more.

But the hands don't seem satisfyed until they touch over every inch him. One settles along his neck, fitting perfectly against the stretch of space between thumb and fingers. Peter rolls his head in total submission, surrendering his throat to his Alpha. He swallows thickly and pants a shaky breath as the lump in his throat bobs under the pressure pressed there.

The grip around him is firm but not ungentle. Another hand digs into his hip with promises but only traces along the outside pocket of Peter's now drooling cock. A full palm slides up his thigh, it brushes against the bottom on his balls and his hips jerk in a desperate reach for more.

"Will you come for me?" Alpha lips press hotly against Peter's ear. Each puff of hot, moist breath makes him shake. He already feels weak and ready to come from nothing but the lightest stimulation and tortures, teasing touches. Coaxing him closer and closer to the edge.

" _Wade..._ " He whines, desperately wanting to. Desperately needing to. He wants to be touched more. 

The hand holding his neck tightens just barely before it slips up over his adam's apple, cupping under his chin, making him crane his head even further back. Making him bare his throat completely. Textured leather finger tips trail over his lips. Peter parts his lips for them, the tip of his tongue seeking out a taste but the fingers are already pressing into him and he sucks them greedily. 

His Alpha's lips move from his ear and mouths down his neck, sucking in spots that make his knees shake. Pointed canine teeth scape against the sensitive skin, biting and nipping along the way. The nips are sharp and the bites hard. Hard enough to leave marks, to break skin, bites that make Peter's knees want to buckle, that make Peter keen and drool around the fingers fucking into his mouth.

"Are you gonna come?" His Alpha's voice ozzes, egging him, rumbling rough and deep.

"Are you gonna come for me" he repeats taunting, like he's daring him to. 

Peter nods irratically, pushing his throat into the clasping hand around it and swiveling his hips, trying to get something, anything.

"Come." His Alpha commands, licking a strip up his neck and kissing his cheek softly. 

Peter turns hastily towards his Alpha, releasing the thighs his hands are anchored to and reaching over his shoulder. Fingers slips from his wet mouth as he turns, lips seeking lips, needing to connect with release.

 _"Come,"_ the words are whispered into his mouth.

-

Peter came in shorts and woke up in his bed at the same time. Heart pounding in his chest and drenched in his own sweat, slick and come like a teenager after their first wet dream.

Something like a mix of unbelievable, helpless laughter and a humiliating groan slipped out of his lips and he limpy slapped himself across face in dismay and swore. Shouldn't he be past these types of things? How could he have a freaking wet dream about Deadpool?! A wet dream where he even didn't even get his dick touched! Peter couldn't even remember the last time he actually had a wet dream.

It was down right nasty.

He felt too hot and everything was sticking together. It was a feeling that he knew to well and felt awfully a lot like preheat symptoms. But that couldn't be right because he wasn't expecting it any time soon.

Peter heats were on the regular like clock work. He kept track because he didn't take heat inhibitors.

Because he needed a prescription to take those. And to get a prescription he had to go to the doctor and if he went to a doctor they would probably want to take a blood sample or do a U/A for some kind of pyschical, because Peter hadn't been to the doctor since he was twelve years old. And when the test results came back irregular and looking mighty suspicious, they would probably want to start asking questions that Peter wasn't willing to answer.

Peter usually waited out his heats in seculsion and behind locked doors. They weren't so bad after all. He sort of liked it. Being hot and horny. He was in denial about a lot of things but being sexually frustrated was not one of them. Usually, he was too stressed out or to tired to even get it up but when his heat rolled around the longing need to being taken and fucked was kind of good. At least the orgasms were a relief.

He just had to forget about the fact that they reminded him of how amazingly lonely he was. And the slight inconvenience of being indisposed. And the vulnerability. And the achey, unfilled, neediness with longing fantasizations about a big strong Alpha taking him from every possible position.

Peter dreamed about having a big, strong alpha to him push him down and fuck his needy ass. He wanted to be loved so intensely and have stupid hot, crazy sex. He wanted to be taken care of. 

By a big, strong Alpha. 

Like Deadpool with wide shoulder, thick thighs, rippling with muscles, so protective, and his hands...

"AUGH!!!"

Peter flailed himself free from the sheets, chucking his pillow against the wall in a fit and kicking up at his nest of blankets as he peeled off his too tacky clothes and clambered up off the mattress from the floor. He wobbled from a sudden head rush and blinked away blurry sleep boogers before scrubbing his fists into his eyes. 

He needed a, _long_ cold shower. That would clear his head right up! and definitely calm him down. No more thinking about Deadpool.

Peter's bathroom was only a shower stall, a toilet and a mirror tacked onto the back of the door. His apartment was exceptionally tiny. A single room that was mostly taken up by a twin size bed, piled high with blankets and pillows and a desk overclutered with picked apart circuit boards, tangled wires, tiny tools, his old busted web shooters, chicken stratch notes, and his cracked laptop that he accidentally stepped on once, along with old left over pizza boxes. Other junk and gizmos over spilled across the floor and the space beneath it.

Peter's apartment was just like his life, a mess.

One wall was lined with a counter top that connected to the only sink that held a single burnt crusted frying pan and every piece of silverware he owned. A two burner stove was built into the counter next to it, but no oven in sight. There was police radio transmitter tucked into the corner behind a tower of old chinese boxes. The fridge stood as tall as Peter was. Smaller than a regular one and practically unused. 

It wasn't much, just the bare necessities really. It was all he could afford on his barely two part time jobs, and being Spider-Man didn't pay like it should. Besides the size didn't really matter to Peter, all he needed was a place to catch some Z's and have his own private personal space but other than that he was rarely ever home enough to care. 

After he was scrubbed pink and squeeky clean, Peter sprayed an over generous amount of scent blocking deodorant on his pulse points and then a spritz over his junk for good measure. He brushed his teeth at the kitchen sink. Wearily eyeing the envelope on the floor by the door, a pink notice screaming at him that his rent was _still_ past due. 

It might have been there since yesterday or even the day before. He was planning to pay it when he got his measly check from Dr. Octavius later today. Or tomorrow at the latest.

For now, he really needed to do laundry, his floor was barely visible and he did have some shame over the mess he'd accumulated. 

He shuffled around, sniff checking some, stuffing stinky ones into a mesh laundry bag, other articles he'd no doubt wore to fiflth went straight in and the 'probably clean' ones got tossed on the desk's chair for later.

The hoodie he wore last night hung unasummingly across the back of the chair. He contemplated it for a second before approaching it with cautious, like an easily startled animal ready to run. He reached for it slowly, than snatched it quickly back to his nose and huffed a few quick sniffs of it like a druggy who was strung out for crack. 

He was just checking to make sure it was still wearable! Not in anyway was he looking for a certain scent. Although, it could be his imagination but he swears, even though they only had the briefest of contact, it still faintly smelled of Deadpool.

Peter's cold shower clearly didn't do much to stop his brain from thinking about the Alpha. The Merc quickly filled his thoughts with the addicting scent. He wondered why the Deadpool had suddenly showed up in town, was he on business? Why did he have to smell so damn good? Would Spider-Man have to fight him, could he beat Deadpool? Peter was pretty confident in himself, he'd kept himself alive for the last six years and he's faced a whole zoo of messed up shit and he always got back up to do it again but he really didn't want to fight Deadpool.

He wanted to do something else. 

Dreamy hot hands caressed his thoughts and ghost-touched along his body, reminding him how he'd just cum'd in shorts merely thirty minutes ago.

"NOPE!" He yelped, throwing the hoodie aside and attacking the bed instead. He ripped the sheets off the in a flourish, crumpling them up in a self hating rage and shoved into the bugling mesh sack.

Peter wanted to flush his head down the toilet if only it would take these thoughts down the drain with it. He simply could not stop! Couldn't stop thinking about _Wade_. Replaying over every moment and word said last night. The sound of his voice. How he made a stupid Star Wars reference and he called him monkey boy! Spider monkey! And even, Peter swallowed, _baby boy._

It did unexpected things for him.

"I don't want Wade..." He groaned out loud to his empty room.

He definitely wanted Wade. He felt magnetized, spellbound. He didn't want to put a name to it but he knew what it was. It's why his body felt so fevered. Why he had a stupid wet dream. He even knew on the way home last night, only he had hoped it wasn't true. He'd heard of it, he'd read about it, he was even excited and intrigued at the aspect of it before the whole, you know, being spider bite and great responsibilities thing. 

He just didn't want it to happen like this. 

He thought about the dead alpha, laying in his own blood. That happened because of him. Because Peter messed up and let his insticts take over. Yet despite even that...

"Stupid sexy Wade." With his big muscles and good smells and murderous protective persuasions... No! Absolutely completely unacceptable! Peter could not. 

But everything in him was fighting for different sides.

Displeased with himself he scopped up a few miss matching socks and tied the laundry bag shut a litter tighter than necessary, probably going to regret that later when he'd have to fight with a too tight knot to undo it. 

His spider suit, unforgotten, laid crumpled on the floor. He picked it up last after stepping into his shoes and sniffed at it too. Yup. Into the wash you go. But he shoved it into his backpack instead for safe keeping. The mask went into the side pocket for easy access and he slipped the straps over his arms and was ready to go. Kicking the angry pink notice out of the way on his way out the door.

It was a complete and utter chore to _not_ think about Deadpool the whole metro bus ride and a half's mile walk to the F.E.A.S.T. Center. He was starting to get tired of it, it was all so around about, the more he tried not to think of the Alpha the more he popped back into his head.

It wasn't like Peter didn't have anything better to think about! He tried everything in his power not to. 

He focused on the configurations he'd be needing to counculate for the test run at Dr. Octavius' lab today, they were so close to finally finishing the articifial limbs project. He hoped Dr. O. wouldn't start without him. The man could get a little too enthusiastic about his work but didn't know what danger looked like, even if it lit his lab coat on fire. 

The configurations only got him through about half of the ride before a tall and sturdy Alpha in a bright red hoodie clambered on to the bus and sat down quitely behind him. 

Big, red, Alpha, Deadpool.

Peter forcefully started reciticing the periodic table in his head. He even resorted to pinching himself if his mind drifted from pre-approved thoughts. By the time he got to the Center his forearm had several welts forming into tiny bruises. 

The F.E.A.S.T Center Peter had been coming to for years was an old gym renovated with its showers and locker rooms. The basket ball court had been filled with bunk beds in neat rows, where people like to mill about chatting, watching the TV's hanging by the side lines. Tables where set up in the space in between for board games or cards.

A kitchen unit was installed where they use to hold yoga classes and the like, they knocked out a few walls to make an open eating area. Up stairs the work out equipment had been removed to the basement and instead there where make shift rooms that were staffed for 24/7 counciling, a clinic, heat sanctuaries, and the lead Alpha's office.

Peter liked it here because it was familiar and safe, it was like a small community where every body looked out for each other, most people where had been around just as long as Peter had, coming and going for the last few years. It was a safe haven from the upheave of choas that was introduced to everyone's life.

"Heey Peter! You're back." An elderly beta woman, waved him down as he passed through the center court. She sat at fold up table with an alpha man playing chess.

"Hey Margo, how's it's goin?" He greeted politely.

"I'm kicking butt,"

"You should get checked for dementia." Mr. Gruffy across from her rolled his eyes.

"Wanna play next?" She gesture to the game, "Were playing for peanuts."

"Thanks, but little too rich for my blood," he joked, "I'll leave you guys to it, good to see you though" he added with a smile and hurried along to escape his quickest from the small talk.

"They got breakfastdogs in the cantina!" She yelled across the room as he left. Some one nearby whooped _"breakfastdogs!"_ with enthusiasm. Peter couldn't blame them, breakfastdogs were bomb. Exactly like a corndog but instead of cornbread it was fluffy, soft pancake wrapped around a savory sasauge link, match that with a tiny cup of maple syrup (never enough syrup) and your choice of a banana or apple and you got the best breakfast they served at F.E.A.S.T. Unless you included good ol' donut Monday. 

Peter's stomach grumbled at him at the thought of food and twisted in a fit of hunger. He hadn't eaten since his late lunch the day before.

The line to the cantina was expectedly long however and Peter would wait. Do his laundry first, even though there was a chance they'd run out of the delicious breakfast on a stick, he was sure they'd let him sneak into the kitchen for a wheat cake later.

The laundry room held itself in the basement of the building. Two rows of six industrial washer and dryers lined on side and the work out equipment was crammed together at the other end of the open unfinished layout. 

It was empty other than a middle aged Alpha, neatly folding cleaning rags in his lap as he sat in the corner of the laundry are at the folding table. 

Jerry was an older middle aged man, greying hair in his tight curls and his face was set permanently frowning. He had the personality of bridge troll but behind that grumpy cat face were kind eyes and a soft spot for Peter.

The Alpha told him once in a quite moment when he was younger that Peter reminded him of his son. And boy did that tug a little at Peter's heart strings, from then he always made sure to say hi and see if the man was holding up okay.

"What's up Jer-Bear," Peter greeted, letting his back pack fall off his shoulders in front of an empty machine. 

Jerry grunted at the nickname but Peter knew he secertly liked it.

"Too many fucking towels." The old Alpha growled and then paused looking him over, "laundry day?"

"Yup." Peter replied simply and started to work on the knot he created on his, luckily it came apart without much struggle and he started at washing his sheets first. His clothes went into another machine and after checking to make sure Jerry wasn't watching, tossed his spider suit in too and ran it on the gentle/fast cycle with color holding soap.

They didn't really exchange words after that. Jerry was never a real talkative guy for as long as Peter knew him. They sat in comfortable silence at the folding table together. Peter helped with the chore, perfectly folding squares out of the fabric. The rumbling of the double washers running filled the space. 

"I think I imprinted" Peter blurted out of the blue, not being able to hold it in any longer and for the first time fully acknowledging.

"You know, like a sea horse?" Oh god, he was going to ramble.

"They mate for life you know? Can you just imagine, Jerry, floating around, being a seahorse and then seeing another seahorse and than just...making it work?" 

"No shit?" Jerry perked up mid fold.

"I mean, I just think-...yeah, pretty sure." He sighed, ducking his head and pulling at his hair. It was long enough he could totally hide his eyes behind it. 

When was the last time he even had it cut? It was suddenly to long for his liking.

"I haven't even seen his face..."

"What do you mean? Who's the lucky Alpha?"

He shrugged, "It's ah... complicated?"

"Ya don't say?" Jerry hummed, "Pete, lemme tell you, from one old man to you. Don't take life too seriously, you'll never make it out alive."

"Ha... Yeah, you got that right," Peter chuckled humorlessly.

"Life is too short. And also... terribly and insufferablly long." 

Peter nodded silently, a small smile tugging at his lips at Jerry's attempt at humor. Or at least he thought it was humor. Honestly, he felt every word of that proverb as he dully watched the wash go round and round in the tank. 

"Fuck fast and eat ass!" 

"Jerry!" Peter barked with unexpected laughter, slapping the table and being way louder than he meant to, "Settle down, you animal."

Jerry grinned showing off a missing canine tooth, his fat tongue pressing into the missing space.

"I'm telling you here, don't let love pass you by Pete." He said more sincerely, "Don't be stupid. There's not enough of it left in this world."

Love? Now he really must be stupid. He hadn't even associated that feeling into the situation. How could Peter love Deadpool? He killed people, he went against all of Peter's moral standings. Everything he fought for.

His whole body visibly slumped with the weight of it. Imprinting meant the inevitability of feelings, right? He wondered what kind of trouble this was going to get him into. 

Peter almost felt heavy again, like some of that old weight was just dropped back onto his shoulders.

What was he going to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally nothing happened in this chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down but when I say slow burn I mean I'm gonna burn you slowly with how infrequent my updates are. 
> 
> Still unbeta'd  
> Fuck me.

**'NOTICE OF EVICTION'**

Peter's gut flopped as he read the words. Printed boldly and firmly scotched tapped to his apartment's door. He quickly reached for his keys, fumbling at them with sweaty fingers, temperature rising with oncoming stress and pre heat. Never taking his eyes of the crisp white paper popping off the dingy door. Eyes rolling over the terms, _"lease violation, non-compliance,"_ and _"tenancy has been terminated as of-"_ His laundry sack slipped from slacking fingers and plopped by his feet carelessly without heed.

"Nonononono," he chanted, not yet! He was just getting ready to pay. This couldn't be happening.

It only took him dropping keys once and fumbling them twice, before he was able to jab it shakily into the keyhole successfully.

Except it didn't fit. 

At all. The whole damn knob and lock had already been replaced in just the short couple of hours he had been out. Like they had been waiting for him to leave that morning to swoop in and switch it out.

"Stupid, stupid..." He cursed at himself, a solid _'thunk'_ of his forehead hitting the door echoed down the empty hallway. He knocked his head against it pathetically three more times and on the third, let it rest with a heavy, dejected sigh.

He wanted to beat himself up for being so stupidly irresponsible. He deserved a unsatisfying, luke warm shower of shame. Aunt May would being scolding him and tutting her tongue right now if she were here. And then she would probably give him a swift kick in the ass and tell him to get over his self pity party and deal with his dumbass mistakes.

He only let himself wallow for another long minute. Then resigning and without lifting his head from the door, gathered all his will power and adulting life skills to pull out his phone from his back pocket and scroll through the phonebook for his landlord's number before putting it to his ear.

It rang four times before there was a click and a husky smoker's voice picked up.

"Yeah?" It rasped harshly.

"Mrs. Rosenbaum, hi!" Peter greeted, wincing at his own fake enthusiasm, "It's Peter Parker, from #406-"

"Peter," Mrs. Rosenbaum immediately interrupted with a defensive under bite. She was clearly expecting him to call and was ready for a fight.

Mrs. Rosenbaum had always been all business and 'I have a half dozen horny bees in my bra' whenever Peter encountered her. She was short, to the point and always seemed agitated no matter what. Peter couldn't really blame her for it since he definitely didn't have the best track record with paying rent on time but he was pretty sure the Alpha woman wasn't that multifaced to be anything other than a straight up bitch. 

"It's final. You're evicted. We already have someone lined up from the waiting list."

"B-But... I can have the money by tonight! Please..." He begged with hope already diminishing. "What about all my stuff?"

"It's out by the trash."

"By the trash?!" He jerked upright and hurried down the hall with quick scurrying steps, heart lurching in panic at the words. If everything from his apartment was just out sitting in the open garbage than the street scavengers would definitely be picking it apart by now!

"Yes. I've been very lenient with you-"

"I know! Mrs. Rosenbaum, I know- I'm sorry, I'm the worst, really, but -" Peter pleaded into the phone, trying to appease her with some self deprecation and than paused mid step with a small realization. 

He almost forgot his laundry! He hurried back, turning on his heel and snatching it up off the floor. 

"Peter, no." She sighed, overly exasperated. "I'm sorry, but you have to find somewhere else."

There was no room for arguments. That was it. There was no persuading her with his awkward 'woe as me charm'. Peter was defeated. He had pushed it too far and dug his own grave. Spent to much on take out, used too much data on his phone, self sabotaged himself right out of rent money and now he was paying for it, or...not paying for it? However that worked, either way he was officially homeless.

"Okay..." He muttered in complete desolation as he made his way down the stairs (Because the elevator had been out of order since before he had ever moved into the place.)

"Okay, I understand, thank you." He hated how pitiful his voice sounded.

"Good bye, Peter."

"Bye..."

\------

Thankfully, Peter's apartment complex sat on a street that hadn't had its road fully cleared from all the crashed and abandoned cars caused in The Snap. It was completely common along the less traveled and unpopulated areas, unlike the busy main streets that were well trafficked and cleared out by now.

The whole city was like that.

When Peter was out web slinging on patrol, he couldn't help but notice the way the city looked like a pop up book from up high. One block would be half way to crumbling from battle damage or completely laid flat by a Boeing 747 that fell from the sky and flattened five blocks while the ones across the street could looked pristine as if it had never been touched.

Reconstruction and clean up was still a work in progress, even five years later. 

And with all the old car blockage, the Sanitation Dept's garbage trucks had a more than difficult time doing their job. They would either not be able to make it or they just didn't feel the need to take the extra time to do the extra work. They were on a schedule after all. Either way or for whatever the reason, the trash was often piled up and over flowing for weeks at a time. 

The only up side to living among the waste was the lower rent cost for Peter.

And by the looks and smell of it, the garbage men hadn't been around in a month. Peter immediately smelled something like well aged milk and fermentation like vinegar before he even spoted his thin twin size matress slumped against the building's wall, right next to the over flowing dumpster.

A small blip of relief bloomed in his chest at the sight of his things. Peter didn't own a ton of belongings but the few he did had his heart racing at the thought of losing them. Including a crochet blanket Aunt May had made herself, a box that held Uncle Ben's old photography camera with rolls of undeveloped film and a stack of family photos. And his laptop, which had all of Peter's thoughts and work since highschool. 

"This is so gross..." He whined to himself, fingers pinched over his nose as he creeped into alley of trash. Thankfully his things lay on the outskirts of the pile, having been freshly dumped. Unthankfully life likes to add insult to injuries and Peter is slipping on a sludge pile, reeling backwards with a twist, trying to catch his balance, looking for better footing and instead stepping back into something that had too much give and slips out from under his foot with a sick squelch. All of Peter's powers couldn't stop him from falling backwards into the garage pile.

"Nice, awesome!" he grumbled. "Ugh, this is it. This is my life now." Right in the trash where he belonged. 

Peter wanted to give up. Collapsed in the garbage, he took in the building tops out lining the alley way and the lumpy grey clouds starting to curdle with rain and contemplated his life choices. He had just lost his little home, one that he had managed to keep for almost two years. It wasn't the best place but it was affordable and it felt great to come back to and crash in when he'd been beaten and too tired and sore.

And it was gone, just like that. He was out of a roof. He needed figure something out. He wouldn't even consider trying to stay the F.E.A.S.T. Center. Somebody else needed that bed and Peter almost always regrettably let his pride get in the way of accepting help. No, he could do it, he would figure it out all on his own. Just like he always does. 

But he didn't really want to. 

Sometimes, Peter just felt so tired with absolutely everything. Just once in awhile he wished some one else would take over for him. Even just for a little bit. He didn't want to have to worry about money or bills or what he was going to eat for dinner or where the hell he was going to sleep at night.

God, he kind of wanted to cry.

He could really use a hug right now. He missed Aunt May and Uncle Ben. He would even take a hug from Deadpool right now. He shouldn't want that. 

Since he had accepted the fact that he had definitely imprinted on the Mercenary, Peter was able to some what control the imprint yearning. The thoughts of his naturally selected mate settled into his mind like hot burning coals instead of a raging fire that ate away at his every thought and it was a little easier to breath. He wondered if it was like this for all imprinting or if it was just him.

He definitely needed to do some research on the subject later.

But just for a moment, Peter let himself imagine being hauled out of his trash bed and pulled into big Alpha arms that would hold him extra tight. A total bear hug that would lift his feet off the ground much like from the night before, and completely engulf him with warm affection and care and comforting murmurings whispered into his ear. 

Yeah, right.

_'Why did it have to be Deadpool?'_

It took longer than Peter would've liked to pull himself together. Mainly it was just the stink that got to be too much when he realized just how nasty and totally pathetic he was being.

With some unnecessary old man noises, he pulled himself up and did a quick brush off and once over for any nasty bits or stuck banana peels attached to him and got to work.

He was able to stuff his backpack full and the rest of it went into a redeemable clean-ish garbage sack. He only took what he needed, which didn't turn out to be much.

Everything was there though, except his laptop. And the police scanner. Which Peter didn't necessarily need because he's long since developed his own mirco scanner in his mask to pick up radio waves and RFID signals. His laptop on the other hand...

It made his heart sink. His cracked laptop was missing. Along with the USB that was plugged into it. The one that had all his research and Spidey gadget ideas on it since he was in highschool.

There was so much there maybe he had just missed it but after a frustrating second dig through, came up empty handed.

He was about to pull out his phone again to call back Mrs. Rosenbaum to ask who had cleared out his apartment when his phone coincidentally rang in his hand. 

Dr. Octavius' name flashed across the screen.

Peter fumbled to unlock it with a sweaty thumb and answered, "What's up, Doc?"

"Parker!" Doc's frantic frenzied tone resonated through his ear. Peter instantly imagined Doc sitting at his work bench, phone pressed to his ear with his shoulder as he tinkered and vibrated with too much coffee.

"Where are you? I need you here to check the fail safes before the Grand Committee Director gets here at noon! " 

Oh shit, was that today? He pulled his phone away from his ear, it was five past eleven. Doctor Octavius usually didn't expect him in till as late at 1pm. The scientist usually stayed up all night experimenting away. Never taking a break or resting until the sun was shining again. Peter was perfect with that because it totally went along with his schedule of staying up late patrolling. And on the odd night, delivery pizzas.

"Uh, yeah! I'll be right there, Doc. I'm just taking care of some personal business real quick. "

"Well, get a wiggle on it then."

"What-?"

"Hurry, Parker, hurry."

"Yeahyeah-No, I got that, it's the wiggle-"

"Be here!" 

Doc hung up without a goodbye, Peter huffed fondly and shook his head. 

He knew he should hurry over to the lab but he couldn't pull himself away until he gave one more through search, digging through the trash before he decided that, the laptop definitely wasn't there. 

Why wouldn't it be bagged like the rest of his things? Peter was almost convinced that whoever helped Mrs. Rosenbaum clear him out took it. Whoever took it was going to be seriously disappointed though cause good luck getting past his security system, pal. And of course Peter had a tracker on it. Unfortunately, it was going to wait till Peter was finished up at Doc's lab. 

"Well, I guess that's it for now." He checked the time again and adjusted his grip the bags. It would take him anywhere between another thirty and forty minutes to get to Doc's lab if he took the bus . But he could cut the time nearly in half if he webbed sling.

"Let's wiggle."

Giving a quick glance around and sensing no one near to see him, Peter slung up to the roof of his now, former apartment building. He knew for a fact the roof's door was always locked so he had no worries leaving his belonging there for the time being, of course he webbed them down just for safe keeping before changing into his Spideysuit.

Over the last couple of years and having free range of Dr. Octavius' lab, Peter was able to upgrade his suit from the old thrift stores sweats to something with his own graphene cored spider silk. Combined with a carbon fiber compound twill, he had a durable and extremely flexible suit.

He even, quite proudly, sewed it himself and added enforced plating to the critical hit points, like his knuckles, heels and toes for extra impact bite. And with a tight weave pattern it was slice resistant and even flame retardant but it wouldn't go as far as to stop a bullet or a stabbing. Those things where still in the works but what Peter was really proud of was his mask.

The lenses adjused, narrowing and than widening as he slipped the hood over his head, they refocused and recalibrated to daylight settings. A tiny radio crackles in his ear and settles into silence just as he flings himself over the edge. 

Peter's favorite part of being Spider-Man was the initial drop into that signature pendulum swing. Hitting the sweet spot at maximum velocity that cut him through the air resistance and sent him flying, making his heart race with excitement. 

It was impossible to not show off, throwing in extra flips, sommer saults and diving through the air. Dopamine coursed through every circuit of his brain and pumped adrenaline into every finger tip and down through his toes. Swinging him higher and dipping him low enough to brush the ground.

He could slip between building, dodge through traffic, bound off out posts, pirouette around corners. It all made him grin so widely his cheeks hurt could hours later. Before the bite, Peter was perfectly fine, hiding away with his books and homework and games, heights had him nervous.

Spider-Man turned him into a thrill seeker, a pure adrenaline junkie. 

Even in Peter's most tired and worn out moments, after the toughest of battles, he would never get over how web slinging made him feel.

"Vehicle pursuit in bound Hester, officers needed, license plate JLJ-631."

Peter's ears perked up at the radio call. Hester Ave? That was only a few blocks away from Doc's lab. He could definitely swing in on a chase and cool things off before someone ended up in a drivers ed training video. He was already just a few streets off it. And by the sound of the cops sirens, they where on their way right behind him. If he picked up the pace he could bang this out before they even showed up.

Perfect.

He definitely needed a way to blow off some steam. 

Kicking it into gear, he thwipped around the corner where 146th meet Hester and immediately saw the targeted truck weaving at totally not safe speeds. Too easy. Peter swung low and released himself, executing a sweet flip and perfectly landing on the hood of the speeding vehicle.

"Hey mister, the jail house is back the other way!"

The driver wearing a cliche black ski masked literally jumped in his seat and bleeted like a angry goat.

And then slammed his foot down on the breaks.

Peter would usually be quite pleased with that reaction, these types of guys liked to act all macho tough but he was being whipped forward from the sudden stop before he could even get in a giggle. White lighting cracked through his skull and blurred his vision as he smacked his head hard enough into the wind shield that it cracked on impact.

And then the driver actually started laughing at him instead! Peter, irritated now, shook away daze and holding back some humiliated rage, punched straight through the glass. Maybe with a little more force than necessary as the whole thing came back in a solid piece like a gaudy over sized bracelet. He chucked it aside and skillfully webbed it to the pavement before it could shatter and spill glass across the street just as the guy punched the gas pedal to the floor. The tires squeeled out and Peter is ready this time at the change in momentum as they speed off, recklessly weaving between vehicle down the road.

"C'mon! You clearly don't have a license to drive this. What are you even doing, dude?"

The criminal cursed at him and hauled the wheel all the way to the right, taking a tight sudden corner to try and shake him off. Clearly the crook forgetten that he wasn't called Spider-Man for nothing. Peter was only worried about how the vehicle was threatening to flip from that move so he quickly flicked out a quick web shot aimed at the man's face just as he felt both wheels on the left side start to leave the pavement. The shot curved and passed through the two front seats and splated against the back window just as the wheels touch back down. Peter takes a second to watch two police cruisers Tokyo drift around the same corner, blaring sirens and flashing red and blue lights. An extra menacing "whoop whoop" cuts through scene. Cops definitely just like to do that for fun.

"Oh look, the police are coming to save you."

"Shut up already!" The man snarled at him and reached for a gun in of the side cup holder of the cab, totally not gun safety protocol. Peter was webbing it out of hand before he can even point and cock it.

"Didn't your mama ever tell you it's rude to point!" He fired off a second web that hit it's target square in the nose. The Alpha crook immediately started to panic as he was completely blinded, releasing the wheel to claw at his face with muffled cries.

The steering wheel spins freely and Peter's spider sense flares hot. The truck swiveled and swerved and the wheels start to leave the ground again.

Peter knows he can't steady the wheel and he's already leaping off the hood and into the trucks direct path, bracing himself for full impact. He watched it flip on its side and it bounces into the air as it rolled onto the corner edge of the roof. Peter steadied himself into a squat and caught it with his both palms up, muscles flexing under the weight as his feet skidding six feet across the pavement from the force of it. 

The vehicle creaks and crunches as he carefully settles it back down into a steady position. The guy inside is still making muffled cries. Peter knew for a fact he'll be just fine because number one, he was wearing a seat belt! Surprisingly safe for a hijacker and two, Peter had once experimentally webbed him in the face before.

Totally and completely on purpose. Yup.

Of course the police roll up just as he finished. Pulling to a stop and jumping out of their cruisers with their hands readied on their hips. Peter draws himself back, guard up and ready to flee. He never knew how law enforcement was going to react to him. At best they ignore him Peter liked to pretend that maybe they might even like him but aren't suppose to, considering he is technically a vigilanty and that's against the law. Some are just straight up hostile. They're probably threatened by the skin tight suit. 

These guys seem to be the later. 

"Whoooo!! Spider-man!" A small crowd of onlookers had gathered at the scene from the sidewalk. Peter turned his attention to them and saluted cheerfully for the camera phones, his eyes darting between them and the approaching police.

And then his spider sense flared up. For a split second he thought it was going to be the cops but it's a slurpee that comes flying out of the air. He doesn't even have to side step it, the aim is pretty terrible but what he doesn't anticipate is the cup hitting the back of the box truck and bursting open like an icey blue bomb, splattering his flank with sweet, sticky syrup.

"Take that you bug freak! We don't want you here!" Someone laughs and jeers from the front of the crowd.

"Aw, c'mon! I just washed this!" Peter whined, pulling the wet and cold fabric away from his skin.

"Freeze and put your hands in the air!" Peter whipped his head towards the abruptly yelled order, away from the crowd. The two Alpha boasting cops creeped forward, hunched over with caution and guns drawn in front of them. 

Peter sighed and then mustered up his overly cheerful voice. 

"Oh, you mean like this?" And he throws his hands up over his head, shooting his webs at the same time and zipping upwards. He instantly bounds off of the street light he stuck too and is swinging off, "gotta love the love." 

He hopes there's still time to run the full order of safety test before the committee director gets to doc's lab. He's almost there, there's still time-

 _"Waitwaitwait-"_ what was that? Peter's mind reeled. He was swooping low when the wind picked up and blew a very distinct smell that made his nostrils flare in attempt to catch the scent again like a hound dog sniffing up a hot sausage link. Without thought he changed directions mid air and swung back around, eyes searching across the sidewalk on both sides of the street. It would be easy to pick Deadpool out of a crowd. If only he was wearing his red suit. 

He realized suddenly Deadpool could just be...Wade. Walking around in civilian clothes, looking totally mundane and normal and Peter had no idea what he even looked like. Who was he even looking for? The streets were hardly crowded here, a few people moseyed along, a few huddle homeless men loitered outside a janky corner store. One of them looked up and pointed him out, the other two turned their head.

Peter was being crazy. Wade wasn't out there. He must have been mistaken. He needed to get to the lab. He zipped up to a near by a roof top anyways, looking for a better view of the block. He was still going to look. Just for someone tall, with wide shoulders maybe. 

There?

His lenses narrowed and zoomed in on block over, between the building. Three people, one on the ground being held at gun point and the one holding the gun held up the other up by the collar. Even if it wasn't him, it definitely looked like trouble. But he didn't have time for this.

Peter scurried along the roof top towards them, bunny hopped between the buildings, holding his stance low as he crept up to the scene. 

"- catch you greasy chicken fucks trying to wheel and deal to little kiddies again, I will _FUCK_ you out in that street!"

Peter's not sure if he's being hopeful or if he's just definitely sure he recognized that voice as Wade's. The suspect wasn't in Deadpool costume but he wore the mask and gloves. The rest of him was wearing a baggie sweatshirt and sweatpants pushed up his shins by tube socks and a pair of ratty gym sneakers. Peter's heart sped up in his chest.

"Oh fuck, we swear we won't! Please!" One thuggy looking guy on the ground pleaded.

"Oh god, please don't fuck us Mr. Spider-guy!" the other one cried. And really? How could you confused Spider-Man with Deadpool in sweatpants? Criminals were getting dumber by the day.

"Oh, that's just disrespectful." Wade tsk'ed and dropped his aim, tucking his gun into the front of his elastic waistband. 

"I ain't your guy, pal." 

The thug on the ground scrambled to his feet and Wade pulled the other one away from the wall with both hands on his collar.

"But you'll wish I was if I catch you twiddle dee's and dumbfuck's again." He punctuated it with a head butt and dropped the guy, who stumbled back dazed, nearly falling down. The second thug stumbled ran forward to grab his partner and Wade slapped him on the ass with a "YAW!" as he passed.

For a moment the Mercenary watched them go, his hand on his hips like he was proud of his work and mumbling to himself something Peter couldn't catch and then very eerily he turned his head and looked straight up to where Peter was.

Oh Fuck.

Peter ducked and rolled away from the roofs edge. Hands clutching as his chest and heart racing. Did he see him? No, he still has his mask on. He's still Spider-Man, he's okay. Peter waited a moment for something to happen. 

And then nothing did. 

He slowly crawled back to the roofs edge and peered over. 

The alley was empty.

Wade was gone.

A sick sinking feeling filled his gut suddenly. What if he lost him here and never saw him again? Logically, he knew he probably definitely would but what if he didn't? What if he was stuck with his feeling forever? What was Wade doing? Did Peter really just see him stop a drug dealer? And nobody died? Presumably. He couldn't let it go. He had to follow him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually cut this chapter short just to put something up.*sorry if this was a boring chapter, it'll all come into play later.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd or like, whatever. I'm lazy af.

It's easy to say "no" when you should "yes," to pull out flimsy excuses from thin air and make stories up on the spot. Just keep it simple so they're easier to remember, don't complicate it and the one you're lying too will eat it up like cherry pie. 

It'll gets easier the more you do it. But it's the sticky feeling of guilt that comes with it that'll settle in your gut like a lead ball and following consequences and repercussions of the lie that don't.

Peter was pro at compartment mentalizing though.

He could box up any feeling and set it aside to focus on whatever the current situation was. Spider-Man was a barrier that helped keep things separate. Doctor Octavius was Peter's problem. Worrying about where he was going to sleep tonight was Peter's problem. Wade "Deadpool" Wilson was Spider-man's problem. Even if he was lying to himself a little about that. He could ignore the blurring lines.

Of course, he felt selfish when he hung up communications with Doc. He'd lied and said the bus had broken down and they didn't know when it would be back up and running again or if a replacement one was on the way or not. Octavius just blew him off and told him not to worry about it. Too manic with his own mind and too preoccupied with getting the project ready for review. Peter could only hope that Doc would be sensible in front of the Committee Head and try not to show off.

Peter wasn't exactly sure what he was doing himself, per usual. Following his crazy, insane instincts that said don't let that Alpha get away. What was he going to do though? Just follow him? Stop him if he did anything bad? Was he ready to interact already the Mercenary? It was good though, right? Scope him out more, protect the people and city from him, or so Peter told himself to make his irrational thoughts seem just a little more sane. He was just too curious about what he saw back in that alley and maybe more than a little hopeful that he could find some sort of redeemable factor in Deadpool.

Not everyone was totally evil murder right? 

Maybe evil was little too harsh? 

Moderately...not good?

Eh.

Peter skulked the rooftops, keeping out of sight as he watched Wade casually make his way down the street. Being absolutely... ordinary and completely mundane! He had to be doing something nefarious, right? Like Going to some mercenary meet up convention or planning to off some multi million business president.

Nope, instead Peter watched him strolling along, being completely uninteresting, checking his flip phone, checking out something that caught his interest in a shop window, checking himself out in said shop windows. Peter was almost getting a little bored waiting for something, anything to happen.

And then, just when he was starting to regret following the Merc, a string of something interestings happened. 

At first it was something simple. Wade bent over and pick up a quarter off the sidewalk, only to flip it perfectly into a beggars collection can, which Peter thought was really decent of the guy. Then a little further down he watched Wade shimmy a boogaloo, doing the electric slide and hip check a pick pocketer from pick pocketing, effectively disrupting the act and moving along like nothing happened at all. Even to the point where Peter questioned if it was totally intentional at all.

And then most pleasantly surprising of all, Wade helped a lil', elderly woman out by offering her his arm as she stepped off the curb and into the street and seemingly chatted with her with cheerful animated hands as they crossed the street together at her own gentle pace. 

Deadpool was doing good deeds? Peter was starting question a few things.

As the two parted ways on the opposite corner, Wade in passing, cock punched a man who was preaching (but more like outright shouting) on the street corner, _"Thanos was right!"_ while waving a sign above his head proclaiming he would return. 

Peter did a ugly snort into his mask to hide his delight as he watched the man double over and turn purple in the face. Even though freedom of speech was a thing, Peter had to give it the Mercenary for that one but only because he probably would have done the same thing.

It only took him another block of following (stalking) before Peter started to recognize the area they were and realized that Wade had been headed straight for the Pick and Pull all along. The Pick and Pull was an open air market that was held in an abandoned parking garage. It was filled with varies vendors, craft markers and street pickers of both legal and illegal findings. 

Peter loved the Pick and Pull, and often browsed the market for fun. He could find any electronic part he'd ever dreamed of for cheap or for trade there. And the best part of this market was the dozen or so tasty food trucks who'd set up shop there.

Peter's mouth watered at the thought of food and he was definitely smelling smokey bbq in the air the closer they got.

Making a quick decision based on his stomach, Peter pulled off his backpack and changed back into the clothes he's was going to wear to the lab. They're not the most fashionable things but than again nothing Peter wore was never on trend. He took a second to check his phone for any message alerts. It's not like he has anyone to message him to begin with so he doesn't really know why he even bothers most of the time but he doesn't even feel disappointed when he sees no new notifications on the screen.

He checked his worn out leather wallet next. One that Uncle Ben use to use, for a single, crisp ten dollar bill he was keeping for emergencies. It wasn't an emergency but Peter was kind of in a 'idgaf' mood about life right now. That ten dollar bill was going to get him something good. Like a Philly cheese steak or green chilies pork tamales. 

_'Oh, please let the tamale lady be there!'_

All finished with his suit stuffed back into his bag and mask in the side pocket for safe keeping, Peter dropped into the alley way and peered out around the corner, making sure he hadn't been noticed by Wade or anyone else. He waited, watching Wade's broad back get smaller and smaller with distance before stepping out and trailing behind.

The marketplace was it's usual weekend crowd, not over crowded but still bustling with people and smells, over lapping voices and wafting hints of pheromones. Peter ducked and weaved through the milling people, trying to keep his sight on Wade's back from a distance, following him deeper in the market, eyes trained on the back of his hooded head. He hung back waiting when the Alpha would stop at one or two stands when it happened in a blink of an eye or maybe Peter looked away from a second and back and with a passing of people, Wade was gone. Mixed in with the crowd and disappearing out of sight. 

Peter took a deep breath, to keep himself cool as the same feeling came back. There's no need to panic. He would see Wade again. He needed to get over it.

But he couldn't stop his throat from tightening and the twisting feeling in his chest. He didn't want to lose Wade but he wasn't going to be a sitting duck and be found by the Alpha either. 

He decided to just make his way to the food truck lot on the next level. He would grab a bite to settle his stomach and nerves. No big deal. There's a high probability the Alpha wouldn't leave the market without getting some food to eat first. Peter could just get something and pick a seat with advantageous view and wait it out. Plus he really was starving. 

He kept his eyes open though as he made his way through, scanning over the vendors and stands, even stopping momentarily at a scrapper's table. The seller had a nice shiny generator that had caught his eye. Peter could think of several uses for it and there's a high end mother board he'd love to pick up. Except, he didn't have any money for stuff like that and he moved long with a wistfully sigh.

He was moving around a small crowd of bystanders watching a beautiful Beta woman dancing to the sound of an acoustic guitar and bucket drumbs when he felt an unwarranted touch tap at his shoulder.

"Excuse me," 

Peter craned a curious look over his shoulder at the voice. A tall man, unconventionally handsome, not quite middle aged and definitely Alpha man stood behind him.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't help but notice you."

Peter blinked. What was there to notice about him? He weary turned to face the man. It definitely wasn't the first time an Alpha randomly approached him.

"Uh- Sorry? What's up?"

"I mean, I couldn't help but notice your scent as we crossed passed." The man took a step closer, eyes roaming over him, lingering on Peter's unmarked neck and then he bent at the waist just slightly closing in and inhaling. His nostrils flared while his lips turned up in a little smile.

"You smell about ripe."

"Ex-excuse me?!" Peter sputtered. Ballsies afmf! Peter felt his face grow hot as he stepped back shock? Embarrassment? Anger? He must of sweat off his some of the blockers he'd applied that morning when he was web slinging. Changing his clothes twice probably didn't help the matter either. Stupid, careless Peter Parker.

The stranger retracted with a throw away chuckle, "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to embarrass you. I have an abnormally strong nose. I think I can help you."

The man righted himself back to his full height, not quite towering over Peter as he pulled out a flyer from a stack he held under one arm and offered it to him.

"I'm an advocate with a support group, we offer health care, no questions asked. By the smell of it, you don't take inhibitors. And you're not mated. It's a dangerous world out there, you know, if you need help.."

Peter looked between the man's face and paper suspiciously before slowly reaching out to take it with caution as he heard the man out. He gave the sheet a once over.

\-------

_ **"The Helping Omega Relief/Diaster Effort** _

_'Offering pack support and protection. Health assistant, encouragement, comfort, and relief.'_

\-------

Followed by smaller details, several forms of contact information, and a pictured map of it's home location.

Huh. It actually didn't sound that bad, kind of neat actually. 

"Uh-wow, that's pretty cool." Peter replied with genuine surprise, eye brows raising on their own acord however he still felt a bit unsettled about being approached about his second gender. "Thanks." 

"We're looking for new members and volunteers. That's my personal number on there, if you have any questions or want to chat. My name is Colin Nobel." It was explained with a smile so charming Peter couldn't stand to look at his face. 

"We accept all genders but we're majorally geared towards Omega's, like yourself."

"Well," Peter started, taking it into consideration. It did sound like a good cause and maybe he could benefit from it, especially with what he was currently going through but he wasn't ready to give this man committed answer. "I don't have much to give and I can't promise anything... "

"Oh, it's alright. I can tell that you have so much to offer."

Peter blinked and tensed a little at the strange choice of words. He just couldn't get a read on the Alpha's flip flopping energies

Seemingly seeing Peter's discomfort the Alpha laughed it off again "Haha, I mean, I'm sure you'll be plenty of help. It'll be plenty of help. We can help." Nobel dropped a hand onto his shoulder and gave it squeeze that was a tad bit too close to Peter's neck. Making his omega nerves tingle and toes curl in his shoes. The Alpha's hand and eyes lingered too long and Peter took an uncomfortable step back. Yeah, no thanks but Nobel's hand caressed him from his shoulder and down to his elbow before breaking away.

"Well..." Peter trailed off, looking for a polite way to end the awkward encounter. "Um- thanks for this." He took another backwards step. Thinking he could just walk away from the whole situation. But he startled when he bumped into a solid mass behind him.

"Ah! Sorry-!" Peter turned to apologize quickly, looking over his shoulder. And up. His heart jumped. "Wade!?"

Peter slapped a hand over his mouth in his own surprise at yelping the Alpha's name so loudly and stared up at the man. Except Wade wasn't looking back down at him, Wade was glaring? at Nobel. Peter looked back and forth between them, suddeing feeling like he was about to be caught in between an Alpha pissing contest.

"This guy bugging you, baby boy?" Wade's voice came out several octaves deeper than Peter had ever heard before and he had to locked his knees in place because he didn't trust his legs to not give out suddenly.

"Heh, I'm only trying to help him. I didn't know he was here with anyone else. " Nobel, having lost his sweet-n-low demenor interjected before the Omega could make his tongue work. God, why did Peter's brain get so stupid around Wade.

"Yeah? How about you make like a tree and fuck off then."

Peter watched the muscles in Noble's jaw tick and tighten. The man inhaled deeply through his nose and his eyes fell momentarily shut as he rolled his neck. Peter could tell the Alpha was holding back whatever instinct was telling him to fight for dominance.

"Only if he says he's okay," Nobel's eyes opened back up and fell down to Peter's own as he spoke, seeking some sort of consent. "I'm not comfortable leaving an Omega with some... masked freak." 

Wade out right growled, Peter's gut flopped and he simultaneously felt his himself bristle with anger at Nobel's word. "Hey! Waita minute-!"

And then Wade took his turn cutting Peter off, silencing him by crowding himself into Peter's space, towering over him from behind like he possessed him. The air of dominance made the Omega's head swim. Peter had to force himself not to take a step forward under the pressure. Instead, he instictically fell into it, leaning back into the Alpha to keep his balance from toppling forward or maybe he was trying to hold Wade back from going ape on Nobel.

"I'm only warning you once, bub!"

Peter was really grateful for the barrier of his backpack between Wade's front and his back. 

"Eww, why did we say that! We've been hanging out with Wolvie too much," Wade's tone suddenly switched to overly whiney and he was flailing both hands like he touched something gross. Peter, confused about who Wolvie was, took the chance to get his voice back.

"You know what, Colin? I'm fine, thanks!" He said quickly. "Thank you for this," he waved the flyer through the air, "and I'll think about." 

Nobel tried to hold his eyes but Peter was already turning away from him, not waiting to see what he did next, he didn't even look at Wade for a long moment before he gathered some courage to take a peek up at the Merc.

Wade was already looking down at him. A grin broke out through his mask when their eyes met. "Hiya. Fancy meeting you twice in two days. Are you stalking me? 'Cause that would be _super_."

"What?! No!" Peter blurted out too quickly. 

_'Crap, don't be suspicious Parker!'_

"I haven't," he added, playing it off with a scoff and turning away from the Alpha with his arms crossed over his chest. 

"Ooo, what's got you so squirrely?" Peter could hear Wade smirking and tried his best not to flinch when Wade's hand came up and touched his shoulder, trying to get him to turn back his way, touching him in the same spot where Nobel had just touched moments before but not in the same way the other Alpha had. 

More like Wade was trying to brush any lingering foreign cooties that clinged to him. Peter tried his best to discreetly take in Wade's scent, the combo of smell and touch immediately helped his shoulders relax. "Who was that guy bee-tee-dubs? "

Peter huffed but he didn't turn back to face him as he started to walk off. He needed to move, he wasn't ready to face Wade one on one in a stand still, he was too nervous having been caught by him. He was afraid Wade would be able to tell right away, just give him one good look in the eye and know that Peter had imprinted on him. 

"Just some guy, I don't know him." He replied, folding the flyer into a square so it would fit neatly in his jean pocket. For some reason, or very obvious reasons, he needed Wade to know he wasn't interested in Nobel.

"But I know who you are." He added, knowing he needed to make the most of the situation.

"Wade Wilson, duh. We didn't catch your name though." 

"No, I mean..." Peter cleared his throat and licked his lips as he stated more tentatively, completely ignoring the request for his name. If there was one thing he could hold over the Merc it could be that. "I know what it is you _do_."

"Oh," Wade paused mid step, one foot in the air like he was caught off gaurd but he quickly recovered by doing some weird double jump motion that probably shouldn't even be physically possible outside of video games. His biceps bumped together with Peter's shoulder on the come down.

"It's all false acriminations, baby boy. Don't listen to the fake news."

"Acrima-...do you even English?"

"Does a bear shit on the pope?"

Peter couldn't stop an unexpected soft huff of laughter from escaping him and the even more tension in him was let go as he was helplessly amused. He was continuously finding his perception of Wade being rearange as the day went on. The guy was funny, oddly protective of someone he's just met and seemingly kind enough to help strangers. Maybe he was juding the Alpha to soon? 

Then the dead body laying in the open of the alley flashed in his mind and Peter thinned his lips, pressing the smile away. He couldn't give in so easily just because the guy was a little funny and had done a few good samaritan deeds. Wade was clearly avoiding the conversation by being ridiculous evasive with jokes. He couldn't let his gaurd down so easily. 

Peter could appreciate the humor though. Most people these days always had a certain gloom hanging about them.

"Okay, listen!" The Alpha waggled a finger after him when the Omega didn't reply quick enough for him. "It's better to have a gun and need it than to not have a gun and not need it. BUT you don't ever, ever, ever, _ever_ have to worry about that."

Was Wade even making sense?

"You can talk to me when you graduate from the sixth grade "

"C'mon! It's not rocket appliances!" Wade exclaimed matter of factly, looking smug with arms folded over his chest as if he won whatever ridiculous argument they were having. " And can't stop now if it's got your eyes shining like that. Twinkle, twinkle, little star how I wonder what in the fuck do I gotta do for you say oh yeaaah daddy, date me! date me!"

Peter flushed a little and he looked around. Did Wade have to talk so loudly? "You don't even know if I'm single."

"Oh, you are." There was a weird undeniable charm about Wade's persistence that made Peter a little giddy. If it was any other Alpha it would be out right annoying but maybe that was just imprint. Maybe Peter was completely defenseless to the man's advances.  
.  
"Or else you wouldn't be sniffing around me like you've been since you caught me with my big pickle out. Did you see something you liked, baby boy?"

"I-that wasn't- you.. ugh, oh my god-! "

_"Thinkthinkthink, uh-oh panicking, work on instictic Peter! No, stop! The instincts have been compromised"_

"Stop calling me that." Peter muttered lamely and feeling the tips of his ears and cheeks burn as he feebly pushed Wade away further away. He didn't actually get a good look at Wade's dick last night. He was a little preoccupied but the impression he did get it was ...yeah. A big pickle.

"It's okay, you don't have to answer, I can tell on account of you gettin' all hot and bothered just now. Does that shade go all the way down?"

_'Abort!'_

"Okay, I'm leaving!" Peter turned abruptly and start walking the other way.

"Heeyyyy! Wait nononono. Oh. Wait, hold up, keep walking. I'll just be back here."

Peter looked back over his shoulder to find Wade's white eyes trained low, realizing exactly where the Alpha was looking at, Peter slapped his hands over his butt with super speed and turned back around to face him.

"Haha! C'mon lemme buy you a coffee. Or hot coco, you look more like you drink coco, what are you like, 15? _oh God please don't say he's fifteen."_

Peter blinked at the request. A coffee? That's so... Normal. 

"You wanna buy me coffee?"

"Oh, I wanna buy you a lot of things but we can start off with cup of coco. Extra marshmallows. "

"I'm 21 dude, I drink coffee."

"Oh thank you, sweet baby Jesus! Alright, baby gap! Let's get you some coco."

Peter took a second to mull it over. Did he dare risk spending more time with the Alpha? The man hadn't done anything inherently bad today, maybe Wade deserved a chance. And maybe Peter could find out why Deadpool was in New York City suddenly.

"How about some street truck food instead? I think there's tamales here." 

"Now you're speaking my language!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #Unbeta'd  
> #pleaseloveme
> 
> Fickle Finger of Fate (or as I call it, Get Fingered) just means the universe is giving Peter a big "FUCK YOU" middle finger. Or alternatively maybe it means Thanos snapping his fingers and being the cause of this 'verse. I also think Wade would approve of the alliteration
> 
> Alternative titles:  
> Everything that Can, Will  
> Parker's Law

Talking with Wade was like playing a game of ping pong. Fast paced and back and forth, bouncing off of each other at quick witted speeds. Although they weren't actually talking about anything in particular, Peter was finding out he rather enjoyed Wade's company. After he had started to relax a little.

In the span of forty minutes Peter knew Wade liked the 'adorable nerd thing he had going on.' And Wade was also kind of a nerd himself. That he can speak five different languages fluently and can say "chimichanga" in seven. That he had bovinophobia. 

("You know cows share about 80% of DNA with humans, right?"

"...Don't you dare fuck with my head like that.")

He also had a bizarre habit of talking outloud to himself and he's full blooded Canadian beefcake, Wade's words, not Peter's. 

"I bet your favorite Ninja Turtle is Donatello."

And one time he got his hand stuck in a Pringles can for three hours.

"Every one knows Michelangelo is the best." Peter doesn't say he is wrong about Donatello though, of course he liked the nerdiest one. He just liked to stir the pot a little.

"False! It's Raphael and that's been _scientifically_ proven. You can't argue with science, baby boy."

And he hasn't gotten around to figuring out what Deadpool was up to in New York.

"Raphael's a twat."

The bubbling laughter that came out of Wade made Peter smile too. The Omega was having a hard time remembering that he was suppose to be on a reconnaissance mission. 

"Aren't you gonna eat anything?" He asked betweens bites as the man's laughter died down. Peter eyed the food he had paid for but hadn't touched.

Wade had boughten them a dozen tamales from "Chica's," a rusty looking truck owned by petite young woman who wore her hair in two braids and spit Spanish as fast as the devil could play the fiddle. Peter watched her and Wade converse something he didn't understand. Peter usually just smiled a 'hi' and said 'I'll have a,' while pointing on the laminated menu taped to the counter.

They got two of each kind, and then they got second dozen of street tacos from the same stand. The kind that come four in a little paper boat, with the double layer of tortilla and fit in your mouth with two bites. 

Wade outright refused to take Peter's money, even after he insisted. In fact, Wade was being something that could haven been categorized as an outright gentleman. He didn't try an more pushy flirting once Peter had agreed to accompany him (not to say he gave up the flirting all together) and he didn't pry at him with invasive questions about himself. Though he did keep almost too close the entire walk up to the food trucks. He let Peter take the lead just a little ahead of him. Not exactly walking by his side but not totally behind him either, just almost over lapping.

The Alpha had thought he was being sneaky and maybe he would have been if Peter didn't have enhanced hearing and he wasn't hyper aware of every move Wade made. He caught the man taking a deeper breath once and then twice in attempt to catch his Omegan scent. Peter really hoped his deodorant was holding up and he wasn't smelling as _"ripe"_ as that guy had said. 

Wade wouldn't even let him help carry the food to the table which could have been taken a little as chauvinistic Alpha control but Peter found it endearing as they settled down on a rickety wooden picnic benches across from each other. Peter was so hungry and grateful to have food that he didn't even notice Wade wasn't eating until he was one taco boat down and two and half tamales in. 

Wade smiled at him through his mask with his elbow on the table and his chin rested in the palm of one hand. "I'm just enjoying the show right now."

Peter looked back up from his bite, both cheeks stuffed like a chipmunks and a chunk of sauce dripping chicken hanging out between his lips. He shifted in his seat under Wade's white eyed stare and swallowed slowly, licking his lips clean before he spoke.

"Is it cause you don't wanna show your face in public? Like, secret identity?"

Of course, Peter is super curious about what's underneath.

"Nah, Even Care Bears don't care about my identity. Nobody here wants to see this." The Alpha twirled one gloved hand about his face as he spoke. He sounded like he was making a joke but somehow Peter got the impression that he really wasn't and it unexpectedly made his chest a little tight. Did Wade really believe that?

"I do." 

As soon as the words left his mouth, Peter froze.

Wade suddenly sat up straighter. 

They both stared at each other over the table and Peter wanted to melt through the bench and shrink into the pavement. He couldn't believe he just said that without thinking!! Holy crap, can he just eject himself from the universe now!? His face suddenly felt like it was catching on fire, surely even the tips of his ear had little flames dance on them.

 _"Oh, that's just not fair._ " Wade whispered lowly, whether it was for Peter to hear or not, he wasn't sure, "Just trust me when I say, you really don't."

Peter dropped his eyes down to his plate and started to pick at some of the loose onion slivers and cilantro bits that had fallen out. "Can't be that bad." He muttered sheepishly. He really didn't care about what the Alpha looked like under the mask but he totally understood if he didn't want to take it off. If Wade was asking Spider-Man to pull off his mask, he would definitely say no too.

"Hey, what's that?"

Wade was reaching across the table before he spoke the words, taking advantage of the Omega's downcast eyes. Peter only started to look up when he felt the cool tips of his gloved fingers brushing away the hair that hung over his forehead.

"Boop!"

"Ow!" 

Peter smacked the offending hand away and went to inspect the spot himself. His own fingers ghosted over the now throbbing lump that had formed on his forehead. Realizing he had nearly forgotten (but more like blacked it out because that was just an embarrassing display of Spider-Man grace) about smacking his head face first into that hijackers wind sheild. He wondered if it looked as bad as it felt.

"That's a nice goose egg you got there. Didja get that last night?"

"Um-no." Peter hummed dismissively and fixed his hair back over it. However, a chilly breeze decided blow through the open walled garage and prevent any attempt at it. He flattened it hastily again, palm running over the golf ball sized lump, mentally noting how Wade was good at avoiding subjects when he wanted to. Peter was okay with letting the mask thing drop. He just felt bad for stuffing his own gut when Wade wasn't going to eat any of the food he had paid for.

"Was it that guy?" 

"What?! No!" 

Why was Wade so hung up on him? 

"It wasn't. I just...slipped in the shower this morning. It's just a bump." 

Why did Wade even care about a stupid bump on his head.

"You slipped? What a convenient and believable excuse." He didn't sound convinced at all and Peter had a briefly wondered if Wade might have some sort of super lie detecting power.

"Yeah, uh..So," he drawled in his own poor attempt to change the subject. "Speaking of New York based super turtles. What are you doing here? In New York, I mean." Real smooth transition Parker, could you be anymore blatant?

"Are you here for...work?"

Guess he could.

"Eh, We're sorta like 7-Eleven." Wade explained with a laid back tone, "We're not always doing business, but we're always open."

Right. He should have known Wade wouldn't give him a straight answer considering the Merc had also avoided the subject when Peter had confronted him about his line of work earlier. 

"You're a local, right? You ever meet this guy? I wanna meet this guy." 

Another change of subject Peter suspected.

He watched Wade out his phone, scroll through it and then turned it around to show Peter the screen. The Omega was met with a picture of himself. That picture. The one where's he's swing around a corner with no shirt or shoes and he's just wearing his mask and a pair of questionably stained sweat pants that looked like they're riding awfully low on his hips. It's of decent quality, clear enough that you can see most details. He can feel his face heating again but also a little bit apprehension at where this is going. Peter opens his mouth to say something and then closes it again when his brain won't supply him words.

Wade pulls his phone back and looks at it himself.

"Whoopsies! That ones for the spank bank. Now here! Check this out! He's _totally_ ripping me off, right?"

Another picture this time is pushed in front of him. It's a little less clear, there's a blur of motion to his swinging form, at least this time he's in full suit. Red, blue, webs and all. 

Wade was here for Spider-Man? Was Deadpool here for Spider-Man? Why did Wade have pictures of him on his phone? Wade had a picture of him shirtless and it's in his spank bank. He doesn't know what to do with that information. For a micro second he thinks about just telling Wade everything. Like,

_"That's me! I'm Spider-Man and I imprinted on you and I'm really conflicted about it cause you kill for a living but holy crap you smell soo freakin' good, please hold me."_

Except Peter is too chicken to actually do it and he's still staring at the screen because Wade hasn't pulled it back yet because Peter hasn't been able to make words because all the moisture has been sucked out his mouth and his tongue is just a giant, fat cotton wad stuck to the roof of his mouth. Speak!

"You sure it's not the other way around?"

Wade gasped dramatically and quickly snatched his phone back, clasping it with both hands to his chest. "You're taking his side?! Betrayed by my newest Bosom Buddy! How could you! Wait-! Don't tell me you're in his fanclub too."

Wade's phone suddenly rang in his clutched hands, interrupting with Kill Bill Ironside siren. Peter watched Wade check the screen and then reject the call. 

"Anywa-.." Kill Bill's sirens cut him off. Whoever the caller is, they're obviously insistent. 

Wade cleared his throat with over exaggeration and with a French accent said, "...Excuse moi" and he stood up.

The Alpha walked a few places away before he answered the phone with an brusqued sounding, "Of all the jerk offs to survive big Barney's one handed cock clap, your flaccid winkie had to be one to make it out alive." 

Peter could only make out half of the return murmur over the line but the end bit definitely sounded like, "Dickpool!"

Wade continued to walk short a distance away from the sitting area. Then he turned around and made eye contact with Peter while spoke into the phone. He debated if it was right or wrong to try and ease drop on the conversation, maybe he could get more information out of it but with the Alpha's eyes on him Peter became too unnerved to do it. He tried to let Wade's voice mix in with the other sounds of the market place instead.

He listened to a plip, plip as rain drop started to fall outside, those curdling dark grey clouds that had been gathering all day finally opened up and a steady staccato of rain drops echoed around the hollow parking garage market. Another sweeping gust of wind blew in and made Peter shiver.

 _"I hope my stuff doesn't get wet..."_ he thought sourly, it would just another wonderful thing to add to his day. 

Being with Wade almost made him forget all his problems.

Sighing, Peter pushed away his plate and pulled out his phone to check the time. An unexpected red triangle icon greeted at the lock screen. The kind that was telling him a login was detected, device access denied. Too many password attempts. Are you sure this is you? 

Someone was trying to access his laptop! So it was just as he thought, someone had stolen it and was now trying to get past his security system. With a flick of his thumb and tap Peter opened his tracking app and put the GPS to work. He waited anxiously for it load through the crappy connection.

"Bad news, booboo" 

Peter locked his phone and flipped it upside down in a hurry as Wade return, somehow he could tell Wade had one eyebrow raised in question but it's not like Peter was doing anything suspicious.

"Sorry, what'dya say?" 

"I gotta go take care of someshit, you know, meet a pig, carry an old lady up a mountain, sing song a while she drinks from a stream."

"Oh." Was that suppose to be code for something or...? "Actually, I've got... something too." Peter gestured with his phone as he stood up from the bench, pocketing his device and started up the table. Wade helped himself and dug through the food bag with both hands and pulled out two fist fulls of tamales that promptly got shoved into each pocket of his pants with a cheerful, "Pocket snacks!"

"Go ahead and take the rest, baby boy. Get some meat on those bones." 

Peter wasn't going to argue with that and uttered his thanks.

"And one more thing." 

He looked up at the Wade and watched him as he started to pull off the hoodie he was wearing. Some primal part of Peter told him to drip his eye sight towards the Alpha's waist and watch the hem of that hoodie be pulled away to reveal what was underneath.

Disappointedly, there was no slip of skin, just more red and black leatherkevlar beneath a white undershirt and the heavy presence of a D. Eagle tucked into the front of the elastic band of his sweats. Peter eye'd it's grip almost as if he was transfixed.

He knew the sound of that gun, he could still hear the _bang!_ the ringing, the _thud_ of a body hitting the ground, the smell of gun powder, of blood, of Wade. But Wade did it to protect him, the other guy shot first remember? Wade would have been dead if he couldn't heal. What if Peter had imprinted and then his Alpha had died. What if Wade died. It sounded just like his luck but that's not what happened. Was he thankful for that...? 

Snapping out of his little self crisis Peter wretched his eyes away before Wade could catch him staring in the general direction of his crotch. Peter was simultaneously torn up and turned on at the same. A very confusing mix of feelings that distracted him enough to not notice when Wade rounded the table on him and surprised him by wrestling the sweatshirt over him until his head popped out the neck hole. 

Peter let out an unattractive quack of protest and threw his hands up around his face in a futile attempt at struggle but once he had a face full soft cotton and breathed in that promising scent, he went completely pliant. Almost lost even, where he was again? What was happening? The warmth from Wade's body still clung to it and Peter automatically shrugged into it and pulled his arms through. He didn't realize how cold he was until he was fully encased by the soft, plushy warmth. 

Looking down at himself, he saw the hem of it fall just before his mid thigh and the sleeves too long, hung over his finger tips. It made him feel... small. And for reason, he liked it. 

_"oh no..."_ Peter suddenly felt himself get wet. Just a little. Just the tiniest bit. He squeezed his thighs together and stared holes into the ground as his face flushed and he tugged anxiously at the end of the hoodie willing it hide everything. 

Stupid body, not now! But the scent was so _good_. He couldn't look back up at Wade.

"Shit, that's freakin' adorable." He realized the Alpha was assessing him the whole time. Peter hoped to God he couldn't tell what was going on underneath his clothes.

"Wh-what's this for..?" Peter snuck a glance.

"Hm? You looked cold and uh-.." Wade scratched at his cheek, looked down at him and didn't finish his sentence. What was he going to say?

"Given your... Ahem, "circumstances," he continued, using air quotes here. "I just think you'd be, better off with that." He offered, sounding a little awkward like he didn't want to offend him.

Well, that was vague answer. Peter blinked questioning at the Alpha feet until it hit him. He gave him something to mask his scent. To make him smell like he had an Alpha. To make him smell like Wade.

"I don't need your... I can take care of myself, Wade." He said finally looking up at him.

"I get it!" Wade threw up his hands, palms facing out in defense. "You're a strong, independent Omega and you don't need no Alpha but it's raining and you're small, pint sized really." He gestured emphasis by holding up his thumb and forefinger only an inch apart "And you'd probably catch a cold like Minnesota. Soooo, just take it."

Peter nodded mindlessly, head still swimming a little from Alpha scent and not having any plans of taking it off. He reached for backpack under the table and swung it over his shoulders.

"Anywhoozle, we gotta skeedaddles."

"H-hey! Wait." 

Wade hadn't gone anywhere though, he was still standing in front of him. Peter hadn't meant to call out to him but he did. Now what was he going to say?

"Gimme your phone number. I mean, could I have, can I. Get.... your number. " Pull it together, Parker! "So I can give you your sweatshirt back." 

Peter pulled out his phone and unlocked it without an answer. The tracking app was still open, Peter glanced it and immediately saw his laptop has pinged it's locations back at the apartment building he had been kicked out of several hours ago. A small feeling of relief rolled off his back, retrieving it should be easy enough now.

And then the phone was being pulled out of his hands.

"W-wait!" He grabbed for it but the too long sleeves got in the way and Wade held it up high out of reach. Not that Peter couldn't snatch it back if he really tried to.

"I'll make you a deal."

"what... kind of deal?" 

"An exchange of information. My number, your name."

Peter hesitated. What was the big deal of his name anyways. It was only a zero degree of separation between him as Peter Parker and Spider-Man.

Oh, screw it. What did he care anymore, let's just see what happens.

"It's Peter."

"Peter." Wade purred his name in a way that sent a zip of thrill down his spine as he watched The Alpha fidget with his phone.

Peter kept his hand out anxiously waiting for Wade to finish. It shouldn't be a big deal about his tracker being open. He muttered something about just closing that app, that he left his laptop somewhere to Wade, not really sure if the older man was paying attention to him or not. It wasn't anything important. He didn't even live in that building anymore, it's not like the Merc would find out where he lived, Peter didn't even know where he lived.

When the Alpha placed the phone back into his hand Peter's fingers quickly curled around it greedily and brought it to his face to check it. 

Wade filed his name under, "Big Daddy"

Peter hurriedly squeezed his thighs together again.

"Call me, text me. Anytime. Toodles." Wade fiddled with something at his waistline, under his pants and then wiggled his fingers in a good bye.-

_**"BAMF"** _

Peter fell back as Wade blipped out of existence. 

Did Wade have a freaking teleportation belt?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly surprised that this has gotten so many comments and kudos and bookmarks. Thanks for all the support.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really an update. Just consider this a little bonus piece cause I never planned on writing in DP's pov.

**"Boner, engaged!"**

_"All right, calm down now. You're gonna give us a case of the blue balls."_

"DID YOU SEE HIM THOUGH." Wade popped back into existence two blocks away and had to adjust his half hard dick into a more comfortable position. The sight of that blushing, baby faced Omega swimming in his hoodie was enough to stimubate him for a months.

**"He totally wants us! AN OMEGA! A male omega. That's so freakin' hot!"** Yellow squeeled. 

_"Way to fetishize an outdated social construct."_ White chuffed back.

Wade was feeling like the luckiest Alpha in the world. After last night he didn't think he'd ever see the little Omega again. The one who had fallen into his arms, clinging to him, begging him to be comforted and protected. The one who rubbed their soft, buttery biscuit, honey dripping, dulce le leche, down right mouth watering and fucking _divine_ scent all over him. 

Wade had been so into a sparkly, pink bubble of fuzzy-wuzzy warm good feelings that he ended up showing off with his big boom booms and scaring the poor thing off.

The rejection hurt more than he expected. 

(But that didn't stop him from going back to his apartment to play a little five finger knuckle shuffle with the ol' one eyed yogurt slinger.) 

But then he'd gotten the feeling deep down in his jellies that someone was watching him on the streets that day. The last person he ever expected to see again was the same Omega. Curiously scenting at the air with big, brown Bambi eyes searching and making Wade's heart do cartwheels in his chest.

Then he saw another Alpha touching the kid. Wade felt something snap inside of him and some very feral feeling clawed to get out. He kept his cool though, mostly. He knew he had no right to be acting so possessive. But Peter was so receptive to him. The Omega put up an adorable, tough cookie act but Wade could tell what a sweet, baby cinnamon roll he really was and he absolutely couldn't resist being a tease and taking advantage of the situation.

Meeting again couldn't have been a coinkidink.

**"It's Fate!"**

_"It's not Fate."_

"It has to be three times for Fate." Wade corrected.

Maybe if they met one more time...

Peter said he would return the hoodie. (Hopefully unwashed!) Then they would have met three times.

Hoodie of Fate!

"Why would he want me though?" He disparged. 

There was no way in Hell. None.

**"Yeah, if he knew what you looked like under the sock, he'd probably puke!"**

_"You are disgusting."_ White affirmed matter of factly.

"Nightmarish." Wade agreed with the voices and sighed. He was ugly. 

_"Grotesque."_

Completely off his nut too.

**"Hehe, you said nut."**

Someone so innocent, sweet and puppishly cute like Peter could never be interested in him. The kid had to be confused. If the new hint of sultry spice that was laced into his sweet scent was any indication, the kid's biology was being riddled with hormones and ramping him up to mate. Not to mention he was probably traumatized from being chased and shot at the night before. It was oblivious he was just associating Wade as good and prospective Alpha who had protected him. The boy was only reacting naturally. 

Yup, that was definitely the answer.

**"Yeah, you're a total dumpster fire. Who could ever like you?"**

_"I don't even like you."_

"Fuck off."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting something short because I do what I want and you can't tell me what to do because you aren't even my real dad.
> 
> Unbeta'd

Contentment was always a short lived feeling, Peter didn't know when he'll end up feeling like this again. 

He'll have to get off the bus on the next stop over and deal with a contrasting strew of issues that need to be actively pursued with more engery than he actually has. 

Sometimes, he just wanted to pretend his life was normal for once.

He wanted to keep this feeling. It didn't take a lot, just that he was full on good food, and he was wrapped up warm and there was a gooey feeling inside chest that was enough to get him to relax a little and watch the rain drops make patterns across the bus' window.

Even though it would have been twice as fast to web sling and the rain would've just rolled off the hydrophobic material of his suit, he took the loose change from the bottom of his backpack to take a bus back to the old apartment building to locate his most likey stolen laptop.

He sat slumped into the hard plastic seat with his elbows tucked into his sides, he kept his nose buried into the collar of Wade's hoodie. He might not have also not changed back into his suit because he didn't want to take said hoodie off. He didn't even care this time. Too tired to even pretend or deny. Wade's scent smelled good, big deal. It was comforting. He liked it. It helped sooth that itch he couldn't reach. Maybe spending time with Wade was okay, good even. If it wasn't for the initial first impression, maybe he would have found himself wanting to be friends with the Mercenary. Maybe that could be enough. A little touching and some light scenting.

Until the building heat inside him finally erupted. Which will be any day now. Peter could feel the slight raise in his body's temperature, and the increasing random body aches were just starting. Just another big, fat inconvenience to add on to the, "let's make Parker's life a shit show" pile.

He was going to have to find a place to wait it out. He could always use the heat sanctuary at F.E.A.S.T. Center. He'd done it before when he was a couple years younger. The nurse there knew him, they'd help him. Give him heat reducers, toys, even a alpha scented pillow that certain wouldn't work now like it had in the past. It was sound and scent proof and it was safe. But it felt awkward knowing there were people hanging around outside and living on the floor below and they would all know he was there and what was happening to him. It wasn't his favorite option but at least it was one. He would prefer to lock himself into his apartment where he was comfortable among his own things but that obviously wasn't an option anymore. 

Peter worried his bottom lip between his teeth. He had to stay away from Wade for awhile. Thinking about earlier, how just the smallest hint of Wade's scent on the wind made him ditch Doc and go looking for the owner had him cringing at himself. There should be a book called _'More Poor Decisions Making by Peter B. Parker,'_ with his dumb face on the cover. He didn't know how he was going to react to heat now with the imprint but he could just imagine himself going crazy and seeking out Wade to beg him for his D. 

He already felt like he was going a little crazy.

Peter's cock perked up in interest when he got a quick flash of himself on his knees and begging for Wade. He immediately pulled out a full stop on that mental image and discreetly pushed the heal of his palm into the base of his shaft until it hurt and he was sure the blood flow had stopped. He gave his hole a little clench just to make sure he hadn't started to leak again too and he mentally scolded himself. 

He had to ignore that part of him that told him to just let it happen. Give in. How needingly curious he was to know what it was like to spend a heat with an Alpha and be to claimed and taken by him. Except he was smarter than his instincts.

He could hear Aunt May in his head, _"Well Peter, it looks like you're damned if you do, and damned if you don't."_

What about Wade? Did he even want Peter? Yeah, he definitely seemed interested but than again it also seemed like 'flirt' was ingrained into his personality. Was he trying to let Peter down easy when he told him he wouldn't want him to see his face? Maybe that was suppose to be a hint Peter was suppose to pick up on. Peter is terrible at taking hints. 

What if Wade was already mated?

Peter hated being so insecure and he was starting to get irritated at himself over it. He huffed to himself and took a long slow breath to clear his head. He was worrying about too many things. He had to many questions, he missed Aunt May, he wanted to talk to her.

But since he didn't have Aunt May anymore, he did the next best thing that any floundering Millennial could do. Ask Google.

Peter typed in "imprinting" into the search bar on his phone and let it do it's thing.

_"Did I imprint?"_

_"How do I know if I imprinted"_

_"How to make an Omega imprint on you"_

_"Imprinting is the involuntary bonding mechanism between an Omega and it's optimal Alpha match. A profound, intimate phenomenon that only exists among the Omega gender."_

_"The imprint yearning will be compulsively strong until a formal bond is consummated."_

_"All Omega's have the ability to imprint but the likely hood of finding they're true match is estimated at less 30%"_

_"Omega imprinting, heat, fertility, and carrying."_

_"Related searches: fated mates, bonding, mating links,"_

"So Alpha's don't imprint?" He hummed thoughtfully to himself, processing all that he read. None of it made him feel any better and somehow it was disappointing that Wade wasn't feeling the same pull towards him like he himself was experiencing.

That wasn't fair at all.

Peter's stomach clenched in an unfamiliar and misplaced way. He swallowed dryly and looked out the rain splattered window again, now half foggy with the warm condensation. 

He didn't want to think about it anymore.

He should check in with Doc. Then again maybe he should wait for the man to contact him instead. He opened his phone book and went to Doc's contact number but paused. He wasn't sure how long the Committee would reviewing Doc's work. Maybe it was just better hold off in case he interrupted something. He was suppose to be in tomorrow too anyways.

Wade's "Big Daddy" was impossible ignore when he back out of Doc's contact. The name taunted him. Peter read over the Alpha's phone number once in his head and committed it to memory, easy as that. Then he deleted the name and changed it to, "Deadpool" because the other one made him want to squirm in his seat when he read over it in his head. Except that "Deadpool" didn't feel right either so he deleted it after a short pause of thought and replaced, "Deadpool," with "Wade." 

_Wade._

He murmured the name outloud under his breath, staring down at his phone. It seemed the most neutral option, even if it made him feel a little skip of giddiness in his chest. Then like he couldn't help it, he added a happy little emoticon to the end of the Alpha's name so it read,

"Wade :)" 

Peter smiled his own little secret smile back down at it. 

As the bus bumped over a pot hole in the road and started to slow at his stop, Peter was jostled in his seat and back into reality. He realized what he was doing with a hot flush and quickly flipped the phone around in his palm and pressed the screen into the top of his thigh. He scrubbed over mouth with his free hand and settled into chewing on his thumbnail. His eyes drifted absently to the front of the bus where he eyed a woman's grocery sack. Bananas and goldfish crackers. Good choice.

Would it be too weird to text Wade right away? He didn't want it to seem to like he's too eager to talk with the Merc. Wasn't there some stupid rule about waiting so and so days? Nobody's ever given their number to him before so he doesn't really now the true etiquette around this type of thing but honestly, if that really is some rule it just seemed kind of rude. Not that that rule should apply to him, that was for dating, right? This wasn't dating. Wade's working anyways. Would he even look at his phone? 

What if he didn't reply. 

Peter knew he'll end up craving sooner or later. So did it even really matter than?

**"Hey. This is Peter."**

He shot it off quickly before he could over think it and than he immediately over thought it and had to add,

" **Just so you have my number..**." The uncertain nervousness that suddenly came over him had him stuffing his phone quickly back into the pouch of the hoodie just so he didn't have to see if Wade answered back right away or not. 

Even as he got off the bus though he was already itching to check it, even though it had only just been a couple of minutes. If he didn't look than he didn't know and he didn't have to deal with it.

He needed to set Wade aside for a minute and pay attention to getting his laptop back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter is hopeless.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's me.
> 
> Unbetaimakemistakesillprobablyfindlaterbutidgaf:)

' **hey there peter ;)** '

How did three simple words and a emoticon sound so suggestive?

Peter didn't brake his resolve to not check his phone for new messages however, he did need to check the gps tracker and it just so happen to be that he had a new text notification when he pulled it out to do so. He didn't even need to open it to see what it said. 

**_'hey there peter ;) '_ **

The smiley face winked up at him as he stared dumbly down at it. Again, was he crazy or did that sound _really_ suggestive? Because Peter could clearly hear the exact tone Wade would say it in. He could even imagine Wade saying it, appearing behind him like he had earlier that day, leaning over his shoulder with his hot breath in one ear. His mask would be rolled over nose, Peter's imagination supplied him a cut jawline, a pointed chin, and plush pink lips puffing hot steamy breath that would surely send shivers all over when they popped around his name.

Oh yeah, no. It was him, he was definitely crazy.

Forcibly derailing his demented horny brain off the Wade train and getting back on track, Peter swiped away the notification (out of sight, out of mind) and checked the tracking app. He was already standing outside the dump of a building he had gotten kicked out of earlier that day. He just wanted to make sure it wasn't hitting anywhere around the outside perimeter first before going in.

Peter enhanced the pinpoint on the location and watched the screen zoom in, showing a satellite image of the city block, then with a blur, one of street view and even closer again it went from a real world imagine to a 3D blueprint layout of the address. The tracker bliped and registered on the fourth floor, for a second Peter thought it was going to be back in his apartment but pinching the screen and zooming in for the last time it showed itself pinging next door to it.

Peter blinked, stumped for a second. His neighbor, ex neighbor? What was his name? Something like Jack? Maybe Zack. Peter had only ever seen him in passing with the occasional polite greeting, besides the one time he accidentally wore his lab coat home that they actually stroked up a conversation together. He seemed like a decent guy if not some what awkward, maybe even more awkward than Peter was himself but extremely nice. Like, really nice. Maybe he had just seen it in the trash when he was walking by and innocently picked it up? That could be the best case scenario to happen.

With his spirit feeling a little lifted, Peter used the key he still had for the building to let himself in, he took the old musty smelling stairway up to the fourth floor and walked passed his old door, eviction notice still scotched taped to it's chipped paint surface. He pulled his phone out again, just to be absolutely sure he was right. When it checked out he closed off the app to his save his rapidly dieing battery's life. Then he casually opened Wade's chat log and ignored the way his heart got all jittery. Nobody would know right? That he wasn't suppose to. It's not like he was doing anything bad.

**"Hi."**

He sent it and quickly read over the tiny conversation only to stare at his last reply. He totally sounded like a complete dodo bird saying 'hi', twice. He need to add something better to round it out.

**"Thanks again for the hoodie."**

He read it over again and patted himself on the back for the save. Feeling satisfied with it, he slipped the phone back into his pocket. Maybe he should have added his own smiley. Or was that saying too much? He said he wasn't and maybe he shouldn't have. But it's just texting, right? Peter reasoned he could moniter himself better than when he was face to face with Wade. No harm in it, it's just texting, he justified.

Settling his own mental debatical, Peter returned his focus to the neighbors door in front of him. He leaned one ear in closer. He could hear somebody shuffling around inside. Peter knocked with a good three solid thuds before honing in his hearing again. He heard the person inside spook, a slight jump, a thud and then the shuffling ceased into silence. Peter waited another moment before he rolled his eyes so far back into his head even his back dipped. He let out a huge inconvenienced sigh. When the door didn't open still, Peter forcefully but politely, knocked one more time and again, was ignored for a second time. 

So the guy was trying to play the "nobody's home, go away game." Peter knew this game pretty well because he's played it too and he suddenly knew what his landlady must feel like. He secretly promised to himself that he'd always pay his rent on time from now on, whenever he had rent again that is. 

Peter knocked a little harder this time and maybe it was even politely. 

"You in there, Zack? It's me, Peter Parker."

A second of silence and then were was fumbling, a soft crash and quickly moving heavy footstep rushing to the door, a chinking of chain and the clicking of a couple of lockes. There was a flip of a deadbolt and the door was opening fast with whiney hinges and then flying into a dead stop. Opened just enough for his neighbor's face to fit through the space. Peter was caught off guard to see him glaring.

"My name is _Max_." He practically spat at Peter.

Peter jerked back in surprise.

"Oh yeah, right!" Peter tried his best to laugh it off with one of his awkward and nervous yet endearing chuckles. He was pretty close with the name though. "That's what I said, you uh- must of misheard through the door."

"We've been neighbors for two years!" Max grumbled. "You should know my name!"

That was true, but Peter barely ever even saw the guy, still he tried to be diplomatic to make this thing go smoothly. He wasn't up for anymore excitement today.

"I remember Max, I do! You were a great neighbor."

Max relaxed a little but didn't let up on the door, blocking the view oof the interior with his body. Peter watched him scent the air and Max's eyes narrowed in on his chest.

"What's that smell? Who is that?" 

Peter jerked, "Huh?!" 

"Who's sweater is that?!" Max grilled him and eyes searching him. Peter's face scrunched up, not liking where this was suddenly going.

"Why? It's a friends."

"You don't have friends."

"I do too have friends." Peter shot back. Which wasn't exactly true. While he didn't have any one close enough to be consider friend, Peter had plenty of good acquaintances. 

"No," Max objected, shaking his head. "You're like me."

Peter could have definitely argued with that but he wasn't here to talk about his social life with some guy he barely knew. "Anyways, Max." He made sure to punctuate the use of Beta's name, "I think you have something of mine. Maybe you picked it up out of the garbage? Earlier today? Max? A laptop?"

Max was shaking his head in denial before Peter could even finish talking. 

"Nope. Not me. I didn't pick up nothing."

"C'mon Max," Peter exasperated tiredly, not wanting to play this game. "Buddy-"

For some reason the careless use of the nickname made Max light up like a light bulb. Peter noted the bizarre effect and watched the man right out of his defensive hunch and take his face away from the door, he suddenly looked more interested in Peter.

"I know it's in your apartment," Peter continued trying to use his most gentle and good natured voice. "I have a tracker on it. I'm not mad about it. Just give it back, okay? Pretty please? Be a _pal_?"

Peter tried his best to sound pathetic and watched Max for what was going to happen next. He look like he couldn't decide what to do with himself. Max' eyes went from evaluating optimistism to glaring at Peter's feet and then sweeping up his frame and meeting his eyes again. They locked gaze's for a second and Peter saw the sudden determinated look in his neighbor's eye and knew what was going to happen.

As Max went to slam the door, Peter's hand shot out and caught it with room to spare his fingers from getting crunched in the frame.

With next to nothing of his strength, Peter pushed back the door. Easily forcing Max to stumble and fall back. The Beta cried out and cursed as he hurried to collect himself together and Peter stepped inside. He's had a particularly stressful day today and he didn't need any more of this bologna. 

Looking around, Peter stalled. Number one, why was Max' apartment twice as big and as nice as the one Peter was in before? And secondly. Why was one entire side of the living room wall covered in Spider-Man? Everything Spider-Man from pictures, print offs and news papers, magazine clipping and random merch. Peter felt himself deflate and he stared agaped in shock.

He'd gotten use to seeing little kids wearing Spider-Man masks and spotting the odd t-shirt here or there but this just went too far for him. Shocked turned into horror when he spotted Polaroid pictures of himself. As Peter, actually Peter Peter. Very candid pictures that he definitely didn't pose for.

He suddenly felt distraught knowing someone could catch him off guard like that.

"Get out! GET OUT!" Max stomped his foot and yelled, looking every bit like an over grown two year old throwing a fit. He threw arms out like he was trying to hide what Peter's already seen, " I don't have your stupid computer!"

Except it was right there on the man's coffee table, out in the open, in the middle of the room. Sitting open with the "y" shaped crack in the screen that Peter recognized immediately.

"My stupid computer is right there!" He jabbed a finger toward it caught in the moment. "And what the hell is that?! Why do you have pictures of me!"

Max' whole body tensed up with a giant sharp inhale of breath and he held it in his chest until his face started to turn red and he shook.

"I know you're Spider-Man!!" He shouted out, rushing the words like he was bursting at the seams with them.

Peter blinked.

"Are you kidding me?!" He yelled back, honestly surprised at himself. Weirdly, he didn't feel the shock of it. His heart didn't palpitate, the world didn't end. Peter always imagined it would be terrifing to be accused of being Spider-Man but it seemed like something tiny and inconsequential right now.  
Besides, it's not like he had anything left to lose now. It was just easier to operate anonymously.

"I've seen you!" Max accused, pointing his finger straight at him. "You're my neighbor, you don't think I wasn't watching you?!"

"Okay wow!... Listen here. That's really super creepy of you and in fact, a huge invasion of my privacy!! You can't just watch people and take their photos, Max!"

"But you _know_ me! " Max beseeched, both hands clutched at his chest like he was resisting reaching out to the Omega.

Peter held back his retort. Instead he took a deep, calming, chest heaving breath. Wade's scent filled his nose and eased him. In with the good, out with the bad. He wasn't having the greatest day ever, and his mood was souring the longer he was having to deal with his old neighbor. But he wasn't going to take it out on him. He had no idea how this guy came to the conclusion that they had some sort of connection together in his head but, Peter knew Max was a little on the weird side and he was probably lonely. Peter can relate to those kind of things.

The Omega turned his back on Max and collected his laptop from the table and replied, "I don't know what you're talking about, Max. How about we just forget about this whole thing." 

Max stepped closer to Peter's turned back and Peter felt the begining tingelings of his warning sensors creep to life. He straightened up quickly and turned around with laptop under arm. He wearily assessed Max, who under any other circumstances would never be a blip on Peter's radar. Max followed his first step with the other foot. Peter could hear his elevated heart pounding in his chest.

"Max..." He warned slowly. 

"I wasn't sure at first." The other man's voice came out just above a whisper, like he was keeping up the secret between the two of them and nobody else could possibly hear it, "But I know, it's you."

"It's not." Peter insisted, dropping his own voice and stepping around Max, but not taking his eyes off him and stepping backward towards the door. "You're wrong." 

"It's okay." Max swayed after him. "We're the same. I understand you. I know who you are. You don't have to hide with me. We could be friends, best of friends."

"Peter, I can help you." Max pleaded after him.

"Sorry Max, but you have a really strange way of making friends. And you don't know me, okay? I don't know you, I'm not Spider-Man. In fact,"

He stopped before the door. "I should call him on you. He's my friend, you know? If you've been watching me you know that, right? Sometimes, he hangs out at my place, that's probably what you've seen. You're lucky I dont call the cops on you, Max! That's not cool."

"Please." Max' chin wobbled. "Don't you remember? You saved me, you said you needed me." 

Peter can blame his too soft heart, when Max's pleading starts to get around his bad mood and through his thin armour. He honestly doesn't remember if he's ever had an interaction with Max as Spider-Man. And as Spider-Man, he never wants to let anyone down. He can't help but feel a bad about it if it's true. He's helped more people than he can remember. Sometimes his encounters only last for the hand full of seconds it takes for him to get out one of his one liners and then he's web slinging off to the next problem. He never thought he could have such a effect on someone, it's scary.

"I'm sorry Max," Peter sighed, "it's not me. But I'll uh, I'll let Spider-Man know you're a huge fan, okay? Maybe he'll swing by. Who knows." 

Peter paused just before leaving, happening to look down at his feet and spying the old police scanner that had also been missing from his things. It laid on it's back like it was dropped just inside the door as a second thought. It probably didn't look good for his, "I'm not Spider-Man," image to own something like that. Still, he scooped it up and pointed a warning finger at Max, who looked every much liked Peter had just crushed all his dreams. 

With the click of the door closing shut, Peter's shoulders slumped and chest deflated with relief. He didn't pause though, he went straight for the roof access door with is backpack over his shoulders, laptop under his arm and police scanner clutched in one hand. He used the free hand to brute force the door handle past it's simple lock, breaking it. Usually he would feel bad about property damage but all he really wants to do is get far away from here as soon as possible. 

A gust of cool air rushes him as he opens the door, ruffling his hair and pinking his slightly fevered cheeks. Outside the rain had let up, only a few dip drops still pitter patter across the roof top. It felt so much better and Peter knew he needed to get into his suit fast.

But first, he pulled out his phone to check the time and to see if Wade had said anything back yet. The sight of the notification he got was like a little shot of dopamine feel goodness. Enough from him to momentarily forget what just happened down stairs.

**"np bb ;)"**

The screen reads.

**"u wearing it now?"**

The corners of Peter lips started to turn up as he read. He tugged absently at the collar of the hoodie, bringing it up to hide his smile and possibly suffocate any amused huff of air escaping from him. Wade's scent comforted him. He knew if he replied, the Alpha would probably come back at him with some flirt. Which he wouldn't be mad about.

So he shot off a quick _'yes'_ and slipped his phone back away before anything else.

 _"What's next?"_ his brain supplied, dutifully not letting Peter get back on the Wade train quite yet. 

Nothing, Peter hoped but he knew he needed to figure out what he was going to do next. 

At least he knew it couldn't get any worse...

He probably shouldn't jinx himself like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to use Electro based off Amazing Spider-Man 2 because I didn't want to have too many OC's in this fic but I wanted Peter to have a stalker creepy guy and I felt I could twist him to my own use. Obvs, Max doesn't have his power yet but he will be seen again.
> 
> ...Spider-Man might meet Deadpool in the next chapter.


End file.
